


A Day in the Life

by DarkeAngelus



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Factor (Comics), X-Force (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Body Swap, Canon Gay Relationship, Depression, Explicit Language, Friendship/Love, Humor, Infidelity, M/M, Sexual Content, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:00:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeAngelus/pseuds/DarkeAngelus
Summary: Hoping to find some common ground in their relationship, Rictor and Shatterstar reluctantly agree to go to couples therapy. One session is all it takes to flip their lives upside-down.**This story is now COMPLETE.
Relationships: Julio Richter & Shatterstar, Julio Richter/Shatterstar
Comments: 21
Kudos: 58





	1. Part One of Four

Like all terrible ideas, this one came from Madrox.

By this point, Rictor should have known better than to listen to him, but Jamie was -technically- the boss in the sense that he owned the building X-Factor stayed at and he was the guy who signed their pay checks.

He was also the person who had sent Shatterstar on an undercover mission to get some information from a client’s mistress who might have had some insight into a recent jewelry heist from said client’s estate. The choice made sense logistically. Guido and Darwin couldn’t pass for human on their very best day. Longshot was supernaturally attractive to the opposite sex but, unless the intent was to seduce their target, he lacked the social graces to engage in enlightening conversation. Rictor was too rough around the edges to deal with a woman as sophisticated as their mark. Jamie could have managed the assignment but, in the end, ‘Star got tapped for the role for a number of reasons; He was drop-dead handsome, charming when he needed to be and he spoke fluent German, which was the nationality of the target.

Decked out in a fitted suit and dropped off at a high-end nightclub the woman was known to frequent, Rictor had to admit that maybe Madrox had gotten this caper off to a good start. And it _had_ been successful. The woman’s grandson pulled off the heist. The pair even had a buyer set up in Europe who would fence the jewels for a nice six-figure payout. The woman told ‘Star the entire plan.

It was _how_ she told ‘Star the plan that was the problem.

The Mojoworlder didn’t return to headquarters until late the next morning and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened. Like anyone who had ever executed the post-coital Walk of Shame, he looked a wreck.

Everyone was in Jamie’s office to hear how his mission went. Even Monet, who liked to tell everyone that their lives were too mundane for her to care about but was always there in the center of each of their little dramas. And she liked Shatterstar more than she did most of the others. She was trying not to smile as the warrior told them what had happened. For all of her extensive talents she was a poor actress and her shoulders were shaking as she tried to contain her amusement.

In a voice that was still a little hoarse, ‘Star finished with, “If you cross-reference the address to where Ruprecht lives you’ll have the location of all of the stolen jewelry.”

Jamie had his indifferent boss-face on and was running the name through the DMV database that Rictor had hacked into and made a backdoor for them to access anytime they needed to use it. “I’ve got it! Terry, do you want to make a run over there before he moves them someplace else?”

“Not yet,” she said. She was eyeing Rictor and Shatterstar curiously, like they were the actors of a really good soap opera who were just about to have their major scene.

“Monet?”

“In a minute.”

“Layla?”

The blond was sitting on the edge of his desk and grinning. “And miss this? Not a chance.”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Jamie grabbed his trench coat and left the office. Nobody appeared to even notice his departure.

Rictor was taking in ‘Star’s wrinkled suit and uncombed hair and finally lost his shit. “I can’t believe you slept with her! She had to be at least seventy!”

“Seventy-four,” ‘Star corrected. He was slouched down in an office chair and still appeared to be in an exhausted daze. “We conversed for most of the evening, but it was clear from the start that she was interested in an intimate coupling. I weighed the pros and cons. I do not regret my choice.” He paused for a beat and then said in an awed tone of voice, “She _knew_ things.”

Monet betrayed a bark of laughter and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Strong Guy and Longshot both piped up: “Like what?”

“Och. God. Men.” Terry covered her eyes and shook her head.

Scowling, Rictor threw up his arms and announced, “That’s it! I’m done,” and stormed out of the room.

“And so much for that,” Layla said and went back to performing office duties. If anyone knew when things were over it was her and the group broke up to go about their day.

‘Star chased after Rictor, who was outside hellbent on going for a good long walk. Perhaps straight into the Atlantic Ocean. “Julio, wait. Please!”

The Mexican didn’t slow down, but ‘Star’s longer legs easily caught up to him and kept even pace. “I knew this would happen,” Rictor was grumbling. “I friggin’ _knew_ you wouldn’t be able to turn down a piece of tail. Even an old, shriveled-up dry piece of tail.”

“Actually, it was-”

Slapping hands to his ears, Ric shouted, “I don’t wanna hear about some old granny’s snatch!”

“I don’t either,” some passerby remarked, glaring at them.

When they were alone again, ‘Star finally said, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s easy for you to say, but I don’t think you mean it.”

And ‘Star made the terrible mistake of hesitating which just confirmed Rictor’s suspicions. “You know what, amigo? It’s fine.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. If you want to screw around, fill your boots. Knock your socks off. Have at it. Just don’t think you can come crawling back into our bed when you’re done. You get your own damned room. We’re finished.”

‘Star immediately grabbed Ric’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “I don’t want our relationship to end over this.”

“Tough shit!” Ric shook off the hold and pointed a finger at him. “I’m not going to act like it doesn’t bother me every time you go running off to have hook-ups with strangers. It does. I don’t like it and I’m not gonna put up with it anymore. It’s me or them.”

“’Them’?”

 _“THEM.”_ Ric waved in the general district of New York City. “Millions of tits and asses for you to bang to your heart’s content.”

‘Star blinked in wonderment at the concept. “That’s a lot.”

“Oh, screw this.” Ric started walking again. “You need to wash off that stink of Oil of Olay and have a good long think on what I mean to you. I’m serious here, ‘Star. You need to work on your priorities.”

‘Star slowed down and let him go on his way. It wasn’t as if this was something they hadn’t fought over before. The alien didn’t have the luxury of naiveté or ignorance to use as an excuse. He knew what was at issue: He wanted an open relationship and Julio wanted monogamy. There was no middle ground to be found there.

A woman walked by casting ‘Star a sidelong glance and he looked after her feeling his body respond to that brief exchange despite the mauling it had endured the night before. Before entering the X-Factor building, the same thing happened with a man who slowed his car to smile at him.

‘Star loved Rictor, but ...

 _Millions of tits and asses for you to bang to your heart’s content,_ Ric had said.

It made for some hard thinking in every sense of the word.

Jamie returned a few hours later with a duffel bag full of stolen items. One phone call later, their client retrieved the bag and paid a handsome fee for the swift return and for keeping the situation quiet and without police involvement. The man’s wife was due back the next day and, with everything returned, she would be none the wiser for the theft and indiscretion. While Madrox didn’t approve of the infidelity, a job was a job and beggars can’t be choosers. This little caper had paid extremely well.

Still, it came with a cost. Rictor and Shatterstar weren’t on speaking terms for the night. Jamie found ‘Star on the sofa the next morning and, as usual, the television was on.

Jamie stared at it for a few seconds and then asked, “What are you watching?”

“Rick and Morty.”

“You know that’s a cartoon for kids, right?”

‘Star made a slight incline of his head in disagreement. It was a far cry from his old days when he preferred to settle any hint of a dispute with a slashing sword. “I’m not so sure. The writing is quite clever with the use of the interdimensional trope. And the murder scenes are satisfactorily amusing.”

Jamie knew it was time to step in.

After breakfast, he called the pair into his office and closed the door. “We need to have a talk.”

Ric, having an idea what this was about, immediately said, “Stay out of our business.” Sitting beside him, ‘Star remained neutral and quiet.

“X-Factor is a team effort and I can’t have any kind of division mucking things up. In our line of work it could mean life or death.”

“Or sex,” Ric said snidely, glaring at his partner.

“Yeah, that too. Enough’s enough. You two have been arguing for weeks. As entertaining as that’s been for everyone, the show’s over. It’s time for some professional help.”

“I swear to God if you bring up Doc Sampson again...”

“He crossed my mind, but I think we need a different approach here.” He whirled his laptop around. “Viola!”

Ric and ‘Star leaned forward in their seats to look at the gaudy web page he had pulled up. “A Day in The Life Couples Therapy – Everyone is Welcome: Humans, Mutants, and more. LGBTIQA2+ Friendly. 100% satisfaction guaranteed,” ‘Star read aloud. “The woman identifies herself as Louise McNeil. There are letters after her name I don’t recognize.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Ric dropped his face into his hands. “Where did you find this hack?”

“Craigslist,” Madrox said with a straight face. “I did a quick background check. She’s the real deal. Fully qualified. I got you two an appointment this afternoon at three.”

Ric’s head shot back up. _“You did what?!”_

“I have to echo Julio’s disbelief. I’m not sure this is wise,” ‘Star said, frowning.

“It isn’t disbelief. It’s freakin’ outrage. Jamie, how the hell could you pull a complete stranger into this?”

“Before M-Day...” He paused to see Ric wince a little at the reminder. “Dr. McNeil's clientele was exclusively mutant and mutant-human couples. She was thrilled to fit you into her schedule.”

“I’ll just bet she was,” Rictor said sourly. “Did you tell her the truth? That I’m a depowered Sap and my boyfriend is an alien time-traveler?”

‘Star immediately brightened. “I am still your boyfriend? I thought we were broken up?”

“Yeah, well, I’m still on the fence about it.”

“It’s not fair to keep such a decision a secret.”

“You wanna know what isn’t fair? Banging anyone with a pulse. That’s not fair!”

Jamie slapped his hands palms-down on his desk to get their attention. It popped out a dupe who stood behind him. “You can piss and moan about it all you want but it doesn’t change a thing. I’m your boss and I’m ordering you to go. Case closed!”

“Can I go, too?” The dupe inquired and Jamie absorbed it with a sigh. “Please, guys,” he said in a softer voice. “What harm could it do? Really?”

It was a statement that would turn out to haunt Madrox for days.

They were almost late for their appointment. It wasn’t because the place was hard to find. On the contrary, Dr. McNeil's office was in Midtown and in a building that ‘Star passed by almost every day on his morning jogs (not on the rare ones when he managed to drag poor Ric along with him. Those were shorter and often littered with profanities). They were almost late because Rictor made ‘Star change his clothes several times before he realized that _everything_ the alien wore looked provocative on him and Ric realized he was being over-sensitive to that realization. It just wasn’t fair that he looked like some asylum-seeking border reject next to the red-headed Adonis he was in love with.

He was in sour spirits when Dr. McNeil led them into her sumptuously furnished office. Her words, “What a unique couple,” didn’t exactly smooth over the tension.

“Yeah, I heard you missed the freaks,” Ric said, flopping down into the sofa. He put his boots up on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles and sat back with his arms folded defensively across his chest daring her to say anything.

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice,” ‘Star said sincerely.

“Your employer certainly made a compelling case for me to pencil in a session.”

“There are some troubling issues to be sure.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for.”

“I appreciate your expertise in this matter.”

“It’s really my pleasure.”

“Oh, get a room why don’t you?” Ric huffed.

Irritated, ‘Star narrowed his eyes and offered the doctor a look that told her all she needed to know. Gesturing for him to take a seat, she took her own and observed them for a moment. “You’re in a dysfunctional relationship.”

Ric glowered at her. “No kidding. You learn that at Harvard?”

“Actually, I went to Yale,” she said, unruffled. “You’re threatened by your boyfriend’s attractiveness because you have a very low case of self-esteem. Does that about sum it up?”

‘Star blinked.

Rictor actually betrayed a wounded look of pure shock. “Wow. You don’t even rip the Band-Aid off. You just plunge the knife straight in, don’t you?”

“Neither of you are conventional civilians, so I’m not going to sugar-coat my words. Straight up, guys. What’s the problem?”

And so they talked. For almost an hour. There were several times that it had potential to veer into dangerous territory, especially when ‘Star brought up how Ric had abandoned him in Mexico*, but Dr. McNeil effortlessly steered them back on course and managed to keep their conversation on track. When she glanced at the clock, she said, “I want to see you back here in one week at the same time.”

“Hey! Your web site promised to fix us. I’m still pissed at him,” Ric said, cocking a thumb at the man seated next to him. ‘Star flashed him a stern glare.

“I never specified a time frame.”

“…That’s pretty damned convenient…”

“Although most of the interpersonal difficulties I encounter are usually resolved after one meeting. We talked about the underlining issues and that’s a very positive first step.”

“What’s the next?” ‘Star asked.

“You’ll figure that one out on your own.”

Ric slumped his head against the backrest of the sofa and mouthed _"Why me?”_ to the ceiling.

She got to her feet and that signaled that the session was over. At the elevator, she took ‘Star’s hand and then grabbed Ric’s and joined them together. Her palms were very warm. “I’m positive that the two of you are on the right track to healing your relationship. You’ll both have some very hard work ahead of you, but I’m certain you’ll do just fine. I’ll see you here next Thursday at the same time.”

“Can’t wait,” Ric muttered, pulling himself free and jumping into the elevator when the doors slid open. He ignored the woman’s wave and released a pent-up sigh when the doors closed. “I hope Madrox didn’t pay in advance for that bullshit.” He stabbed the ground floor button with an impatient finger. “What a waste of time. Jesus.”

“I thought she was patient, professional and well informed.”

“She’s too young for you, dude. She looked like she was only _maybe_ fifty.”

‘Star finally dropped his composure and grumbled low in his throat. “And you were extremely rude.”

“This is who I am. This is how I’ve always been.”

“No, it isn’t. You’ve had your moments of insubordination, Julio, but you were never this bad.”

“If you don’t like it, tough. Go find somebody else.”

The elevator stopped on a floor and a man around their age wearing a business suit stepped in. He glanced at Ric then ‘Star, the contact lasting a little longer, before he turned around and pressed the ground floor button. As the elevator resumed its decent, ‘Star settled his gaze on the other man’s ass and said distinctly, “Perhaps I will.”

Clenching his teeth, Rictor’s face flushed to a dark crimson.

At X-Factor Madrox glanced at the closed-circuit monitor to the front entrance and saw that Rictor was coming back. Alone. He went to the door and opened it. “How’d it go? Where’s Shatterstar?”

“Don’t fucking ask!” Ric shouted, barreling past him. “To hell with that asshole.”

Resting his forehead against the door, the mutant muttered, “Back to square one.”

By the time ‘Star wandered back to the headquarters building, it was after supper and Ric had gone out to the local bar with Guido and Longshot. Going barhopping with the blond Mojoworlder usually meant good things for the people who went with him. He was a phenomenal wingman and his luck powers usually meant an easy score for his teammates. Guido found a modestly attractive lady who had a mutant fetish and wasn’t put off by his deformity. They left the bar together. Ric drank a toast in their honor.

Longshot found a pair of lesbian roommates who were interested in experimenting with a ménage a trios and yanked him out of the club. Ric would have raised another toast for that victory, if he hadn’t been completely shitfaced by then. True to Longshot’s power, an attractive older man had been trying to get Julio’s attention all night. He footed the bill for his drinks and all he had gotten for his efforts was Ric’s name, and not his real one.

Before it was last call, he elbowed his way through the throng at the bar and put a hand on the Mexican’s shoulder to haul him partially around in his seat. Ric maintained his grip on his beer and took a pull from the bottle as he stared curiously back at the angry man. “Problem?”

“You enjoy that drink? Huh? I’ve been paying for them all night!” The man shouted above the heavy bass beat coming from the dance floor.

“Gracias,” Ric said, peering at his now-empty bottle. “How's 'bout getting me another?”

“How about we go outside so you can repay me?” He jerked his head at the back of the bar where the exit light glowed over a door that led to the back alley. Ric knew that area quite well. ‘Star had gobbled him behind a rack of wooden pallets the last time they’d gone out clubbing together. Thinking of the Mojoworlder brought back the reason for their fight that morning. Maybe some revenge sex would make him feel better. He eyed the man looming over him with a curious eye.

Tall, good physique, about in his early thirties and possibly had some Hispanic blood in him or maybe Native American. As attractive as the man was, he didn’t turn Ric’s crank who had a fetish for gingers; it was one of the few things that had remained a constant since he’d entered puberty even though his taste in genders had switched gears. As much as he was tempted to get back at ‘Star by fooling around with this stranger, he just wasn’t interested.

With a sigh, Ric started to turn back to the bar before the man was in his face again. “So? How about it?”

“Look, man, thanks for the drinks and all but seriously, get lost. I’m already someone else’s problem, okay?”

“You little asshole!”

“I said _go_ ,” Ric said, and something changed in his face that made the man recoil in surprise. “Seriously, don’t mess with me.” He might have lost his mutant power, but he could scrap with the best of them.

The man wisely gave up and eventually left with someone else. Ric didn’t notice. By then he was nursing his last drink of the night and lost in thought. He only had eyes for Shatterstar and the alien was too damned distracted by his libido to notice.

“Fuck my life,” he said and upended the bottle.

‘Star was back home sitting on the sofa watching Netflix and he looked up when Ric walked into the room. The TV was the only thing turned on and the shifting colors played across the Mexican’s features as he squinted down at his silent partner. “Did you fuck him?” He was referring to the businessman in the elevator. ‘Star had struck up a conversation with him in the lobby and Rictor had been too flustered and angry at that point to stand around and wait for the outcome.

“No,” ‘Star said.

He had changed in a great many ways since his return from Mojoworld, but he was no liar. Relieved, Rictor vaulted over the back of the sofa, landing in a drunken sprawl in the alien’s lap and they shared a much-needed laugh. After that, they leisurely made out. Ric laid on top of him, his legs nettled between ‘Star’s spread thighs and their erections bunted against each other’s, constrained only by their clothes. It didn’t hurt that ‘Star was watching Supernatural and the actors Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki were two damned fine-looking studs. It was almost better than watching gay porn.

“Slap those two together and add some ginger hair and they’d almost turn out as gorgeous as you,” Ric murmured, running his fingers though that red hair he loved so much. He missed the length. It had been one of the things that had made ‘Star almost mystical. “Mebbe add Chris Hemsworth’s physique into the mix.”

“Thank you, Julio.” ‘Star licked a path up the side of his partner’s neck and then pulled him closer for a kiss.

Their tongues quested wetly before Ric pulled away and whispered into his ear, “Which actor do I remind you of?”

‘Star stared at the ceiling, his mind working feverishly for a proper response. He finally settled on a name. “Gabriel Iglesias.”

It was the wrong answer.

Shoving himself up on his arms, Ric stared down at him in disbelief. “The _‘Fluffy’_ guy? The comedian in the triple-X Hawaiian shirts? Are you shitting me?”

“I don’t know any attractive Mexican actors!”

“For Christ’s sake! There’s… there’s, I don’t know! How about Antonio Banderas?”

“He’s Spanish and old.”

Ric scrambled back to sit on the other side of the sofa. “So, the only person who pops into your head when you look at me is that Iglesias guy? Are you saying I’m fat?”

“Julio, I’m not-! I-I don’t think of other people when I’m with you. You’re-” ‘Star realized that he was floundering badly on this unexpected topic and blundered on with; “You’re _you_.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It-it means you’re special to me. _Unique_.”

Getting to his feet, Ric slapped his hands to his sides and released a chuckle that contained little humor. “I guess it makes sense. I mean, my whole life is a joke. I guess I can see how you think I’m funny.” He raised his shirt and pinched the skin on his stomach. He had lost his six pack since being depowered. “Yeah, I see some of the resemblance. Maybe I’ll go out and buy a chocolate cake and chow down.”

‘Star observed him with growing anger and sat up. “You are drunk. It’s impossible to reason with you when you’re drunk.”

“But okay to fuck, right? That’s what we were gonna do until I asked the wrong question.”

“There’s no sense talking to you when you’re like this.” Jumping to his feet, ‘Star pointed a finger at him. “Tonight the sofa is _yours_. I have heard enough of your-” He paused for a second and said, “Bullshit. Good night.”

“Bite me,” Ric snapped back.

“Not this time,” the alien said as he went up the stairs.

Dropping back down into the sofa, Ric muttered under his breath, “Bastard always manages to get in the last word. Son of a bitch.” He set his desultory gaze to the TV. Misha Collins had made an appearance in the episode along side the other two and that was simply too much testosterone for one lonely gay man to handle. Ric beat one off before settling down for the night. He was woken up once by Guido, who was humming under his breath as he passed the room and headed for the stairs with a rare skip in his step.

 _At least someone got to have a good night,_ Rictor thought resentfully and burrowed his head onto the flat, stale-smelling pillow. His dreams were dark and formless.

When he woke up the next morning, he was already mentally preparing himself for the dull throb of a hang-over and was surprised to find that his head was pain free. He looked around and saw the familiar surroundings of his bedroom. _‘Star must have carried me up to bed_ , he thought and weathered the guilt he felt over their living-room argument. In hindsight, it was a really stupid thing to fight over. ‘Star only knew about that Mexican comedian because he was Ric’s favorite.

The bedroom was too bright for his eyes despite the curtains being drawn. He figured it was a side-effect of his drinking and kept them shielded as he went to the bathroom. It wasn’t until he pulled his dick out to take a leak that it began to dawn on him that this was not a normal Friday morning. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

The penis in his hand was pale, for one thing. And larger. A _lot_ larger. Even from this odd perspective, Rictor knew that dick intimately. He ran to the bathroom mirror.

“Oh. My. _GOD.”_

The face in the mirror that mouthed those words belonged to Shatterstar.

* * *


	2. Part Two of Four

“’Star.”

Pulling reluctantly out of a sludgy, strange sleep filled with peculiar visions Shatterstar slapped a hand over his face. His head hurt. Why did his head hurt?

Someone was gently shaking his foot. He squinted up through his splayed fingers and saw that he was in the living room. _Had Rictor somehow carried him downstairs without his being aware of it?_

“’Star, you have to wake up.”

“Layla?” He raised his head and saw her standing at the end of the sofa. There was something wrong with his vision; her features were not in the stark focus he was used to. He sat up quickly and the ache in his head exploded with the movement. He was dimly aware that his stomach was nauseated.

“What the fekt?” His voice sounded strange to his ears. He looked down at his arms and saw that his hands were deeply tanned. The knuckles had dark hair on them. “What’s happened?”

“You need to listen to me before you get upset-”

“Why am I wearing Rictor’s clothes?” He ran a hand through his longer hair and made a beeline for the bathroom down the hall. _“Za’s vid!”_ He shouted when he saw his reflection.

“I’m sorry,” Layla was saying as he ran disbelieving hands over his, Rictor’s, face. “I didn’t have a clue this was going to happen until it was too late. It’s because you’re from Mojoworld and-”

‘Star’s stomach roiled, and he barely made it to the toilet before he started throwing up partially digested alcohol. He heaved into the bowl while Layla rubbed his back. Panting raggedly over the toilet, ‘Star was dimly aware that his jeans were wet. His bladder had let go while he was vomiting. “What’s wrong with this fekting body?”

“It’s human. You’re human,” Layla said sadly.

* * *

“Y’know,” Guido remarked in the kitchen later when they were all gathered around for an informal staff meeting. “I usually expect strange shit to drop on a Friday, but this one takes the cake.”

Theresa opened her mouth to admonish him, but closed it without saying a word. She was in silent agreement with him on this one.

Monet had finished her telepathic inspection of the two and, as offsetting as it appeared, Rictor and ‘Star had undergone a thorough body swap. “The totality of the exchange is quite impressive,” she admitted. “Dr. McNeil might as well have swapped brains.”

Sitting at the table with his still-aching head in his hands, ‘Star (in Rictor’s body) glared at her. The much-needed shower had done little to placate him. “You can’t switch us back?”

“I don’t think even Xavier could do that. This isn’t telepathy at work here. It’s on an entirely different level. I’m not entirely sure what it is or how long it’ll last.”

“You mean this could be permanent?” Bile filled the back of his throat and he pressed the back of one hand to his mouth to stifle a sour burp. His dark skin had noticeably paled.

“I don’t exactly have it easy either,” Rictor (in ‘Star’s body) said peevishly. He was leaning up beside the counter and reached for his mug of coffee. The ceramic shattered to pieces under his grip, sending the scalding liquid everywhere. “ _Mierda!_ That’s the third mug I’ve broken. How do you turn off the super strength?”

“Maybe just loosen your grip?” Darwin suggested.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m-what? I wasn’t yelling.”

“Jesus.” Ric pressed his hands to his ears. “Everyone’s talking too goddamned loud. And the friggin’ smells-! Guido, dude. You gotta stop bathing in the Axe body spray. I think my nose is gonna fall off.” He suddenly sneezed twice.

“Enhanced senses,” ‘Star murmured. He looked at the two aspirin Layla set down in front of him with a frown. “They can be an asset and a curse.”

“It’s sensory overload is what it is,” Ric said. “Everything is too damned bright. I can hear all of your heartbeats. I can even smell-” He glanced at Terry and visibly recoiled away from her. “Oh, gross! You’re on the rag.”

Reacting without thinking, Terry slapped him before marching out of the room in embarrassment.

“Guess you were right,” Guido dead panned.

Monet elbowed him. _Hard_.

“Oh, c’mon. Ya gotta admit this is friggin’ hilarious.” Guido snickered as he sipped his coffee.

“Stop complaining,” ‘Star told his partner in a rough voice. “At least you got a healthy body to inhabit. You sabotaged this one with all that liquid poison you consumed last night. I think I’m dying.”

“It’s called a hangover, you big baby. Suck it up.”

“Easy for you to say. You have my fekting healing factor, vehjka!” He was starting to rise and both Layla and Darwin put a hand on either shoulder. They easily overpowered him and he fell back down into his seat, blinking in surprise.

Madrox came into the kitchen and everyone looked up expectantly. “I called Louise McNeil’s office. The voicemail message said that she’s on vacation until next week. Her other contact numbers have been disconnected.”

“Jamie, you stupid son of a bitch,” Ric growled.

The mutant threw his arms up in the air. “How the hell could I have known _this_ could happen? There’s, what, three hundred mutants left on Earth? What are the odds that I could have picked the one with a penchant for swapping bodies? Besides, _she_ never pulled her patented ‘I know stuff’ crap to stop me, did she?” He was, of course, pointing at Layla.

The blond favored him with a cool look. “Mojoverse magic tends to skew my foresight.”

That was news to Monet. “Since when?”

Layla glanced at ‘Star who picked that moment to swallow the aspirin, avoiding her eyes as he drank a glass of water. “We discovered that during our time stuck in Latveria. I didn’t realize Dr. McNeil could do something like this until it was too late. Everyone just needs to keep it together. I’m pretty sure this will all work itself out.”

“How sure?” ‘Star asked suspiciously.

“A hundred percent sure? Ninety percent?” Ric chimed in.

“It’s just a feeling I have.”

“Aw, hell,” Ric said in disgust. “We are so totally boned.”

Madrox wanted to check out Dr. McNeil’s office and Ric and ‘Star insisted that they go with him. Despite all of the eager volunteers who wanted to tag along with them to watch the potential train wreck in motion, Jamie only permitted Longshot to come along because, at that point, he figured he needed all the luck he could get.

Since parking was always difficult in Midtown (and nearly impossible on Fridays) they decided to take an Uber. In terms of mistakes, it wasn’t Jamie’s first of the day, but it sure added to the pile. In the backseat, ‘Star was looking at Rictor with distaste. “Where did you find those clothes?”

Ric was wearing unlaced brown boots, faded khaki pants with the knees ripped out, a black T-Shirt, and a denim vest. “Why? What’s wrong with this?”

Jamie said honestly, “I think for a guy who’s spent as much time in the closet as you have, you’d have better fashion sense.”

Longshot craned his head around from where he was sitting in the front seat. “Don’t listen to him. I think it’s a nice look.”

“Thanks, man.”

“You should wear that at the next Pride Parade.”

Ric’s pale face turned an indignant purple.

“If anyone takes a picture of my body in that outfit, I will have to kill them,” ‘Star said. He was wearing Ric’s usual ensemble.

“You better not have my Ruger on you,” Ric warned.

“I don’t need that puny human weapon. My gauntlets still work.” Out of the right sleeve of Rictor’s brown coat, ‘Star’s duel swords snapped out. _SHAK!_

The Uber driver stopped right in the center of traffic and kicked them all out.

It was a short walk to the building. Predictably, the doctor’s office was locked up tight. A page of letter head was taped to the door. It had the image of a palm tree and the words in Comic Sans: _“Will be back next Thursday. Aloha!”_

“Looks like we’re headed to Hawaii,” Ric said.

Jamie had taken out his lock-picking kit and was working on the door handle. “We’re not going to Hawaii.”

“Sure we are. ‘Star can just teleport us-” He looked at his body frowning back at him. “Oh, crap. How do _I_ do that?”

“You would need my swords and they are still attuned to my consciousness,” ‘Star said. “However, I don’t feel the connection I need to make a portal. It’s like a short circuit. Until I’m back in my body, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Delta?” Ric asked hopefully.

“No,” Jamie said, unlocking the door. They went into the office and he started working on her desk. “It’s probably a false trail. She could have gone anywhere. Look around. Longshot, see if you can pick up any psychic imprints.”

With his gift of psychometry, the Mojoworlder picked up a pen, ran his three-fingered hands along the desk, along the chairs, windowsills, practically every surface he could think of. “I’m not getting anything useful. Just vague emotions; nothing sinister or suspicious.” He touched the coffee table and looked at Rictor. “Did you really put your boots up on here? Alison would have slapped me for that.”

“I said much the same thing,” ‘Star said. He was watching Jamie rifle unsuccessfully through the desk drawers.

“Get off my case,” Ric said, pulling at the handle of the locked filing cabinet. He gave it a hard yank and pulled the handle completely off. He swore in Spanish and kicked it, leaving a large dent in the metal.

“Knock it off!” Jamie barked. “Thrashing her office isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

“Wanna bet?” Wrecking things in frustration was one of Rictor’s better talents, powerless or not.

“What’s going on in here?” A security guard for the building saw them and fingered the mouthpiece that was attached to his shoulder. “Brooks, it’s Jake. 10-59. I’ve got a-”

Longshot threw a flechette that cut the cable to the walkie-talkie attached to his belt. The four then made a break for the stairs. Rictor and Longshot easily outpaced the others, but when ‘Star lagged behind Jamie, he vaulted over the railing to jump to the next landing immediately regretting the action as soon as he made it. “Ric!”

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Rictor managed to catch him but stumbled and they fell down a flight of stairs. “Are you okay?” He asked. The Mojoworlder’s body weathered the impact quite easily, but he was too concerned to notice.

‘Star winced when he put weight on his left ankle. “I don’t think it’s serious. I appreciate the concern,” he said gratefully.

“Right. Look, feel free to pull that stupid reckless shit when you’re back in your own stupid body. Just don’t fuck up mine, okay?” He saw a look of hurt cross that face at the harsh words. It was an expression that he knew very well from his many times glaring at his reflection in the mirror. Immediately regretting what he said, he tried again in a softer tone, “I mean…”

“Come on, you two!” Jamie shouted from two floors down.

‘Star pushed Ric aside and followed after the others. Two times Rictor tried to help, and both times his efforts were shrugged off. When they ran out of the back, Star peeled off from them and went his own way.

“Hey!” Jamie called to him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Glaring at them over his shoulder, Shatterstar launched into a short, scathing tirade in Cadre that managed to make even Longshot blink in surprise. The coarse alien words coming out of the disheveled Mexican’s body added to the surreal tableau that was revealing itself on this strange day.

Rictor caught most of the exchange and flushed in shame. He didn’t pursue his partner and went in the opposite direction.

Perplexed, Jamie to Longshot for an explanation. “What’d he say?

“Uhm, let’s put it this way; Mojoworld censors would have bleeped out most of the words if it had aired on prime time.”

“I don’t like the idea of ‘Star venturing off alone in that mindset.” Madrox noticed that Rictor was gone. “Him, either.”

“We could try to shadow them. Chances are good they would throw us off, though.” Longshot was speaking from experience. “I think we should give them their space.”

Jamie could always find them by the GPS that was built into their belt buckles, although both young men were canny enough to disable them if they wanted to become untraceable. “Let’s go back home. I’ll see if I can find out where Dr. McNeil lives. We haven’t exhausted every option just yet.”

“Perhaps we should.”

Jamie looked at the blond curiously. Startling bouts of insight were particularly rare for him so, when they happened, he took notice. “What makes you say that?”

“While I was in her office, the only thing that kept repeating itself were the words ‘A Day in the Life’. I didn’t detect any malicious intent and Layla said she had a feeling this would end soon. I think we should let it play out.”

“That’s one hell of a long shot.”

Appreciating the use of his namesake, the alien broke out into his most charming grin. In the end, Jamie caved.

It would be his final mistake of the day.

* * *

Venturing deeper into the city, Rictor was trying to recall a time ‘Star had ever cursed at him to the extent of what he had just done outside of McNeil’s office building. He couldn’t do it. Shatterstar could manage some pretty coarse insults in Cadre, but telling Ric he could shove his head up Mojo’s ass and fellate his eyeballs was a definite first. It meant that ‘Star had actually reached the point that Ric had been bluffing his way around: He was ready to call it quits.

Rictor realized that he didn’t want that to happen.

Passing by a Starbucks, he remembered that he hadn’t had much of a chance to enjoy his attempts at a morning coffee back at HQ and went inside, stepping into the usual disgruntled queue for the counter. His senses were almost immediately assaulted by the overpowering smell of various spices, mostly cinnamon.

“Ah, Christ,” he said, sneezing. He pressed a finger beneath his nose as his eyes watered up. He could hear the undercurrent of voices all around him overlapping into nonsensical babble. It was beginning to dawn on him why ‘Star was always uncomfortable in small areas. It wasn’t claustrophobia. It wasn’t even anthrophobia. It was simply not wanting to be subjected to the constant overwhelming sensory bombardment. Ric always goaded him into going in with him and ‘Star had relented every single time, even weathering insults like, “Suck it up, you big baby.” Said in humor, sure, but they sure made Ric feel like a huge _pendejo_ now.

A female barista was waving to try to get his attention. He reluctantly left his spot and went over to her.

She was smiling at him. “You know you never have to wait in line when I’m on shift. Do you want the usual, Ben?”

Ric didn’t know her, but ‘Star’s body sure did. He immediately felt an erection forming. He pulled his tucked-in shirt out of his pants to help cover up his crotch. “Uh...” It was probably going to be some low-calorie tasteless concoction that he absolutely loathed. “Let’s change it up today. Venti Peppermint White Hot Chocolate with a double shot of expresso.”

She cocked an eyebrow in surprise and that sent his dick off again. The tight jeans he was wearing were becoming really uncomfortable.

When she returned with his cup, he began rooting for his wallet. It didn’t dawn on him that it was in the pants that ‘Star was wearing.

Before he could say anything, the girl-

The name, _Heather,_ popped into his mind

-Waved him off. “Drinks are still on me.”

“Yeah?” He eyed her suspiciously.

“For helping me move my couch into my new apartment, remember? The place had no elevator.”

“Oh.”

“And,” her voice dropped to a conspiring whisper, “What we did on it later.”

“... _Oh_.” Ric scowled at her.

She was about to comment on the animosity on his face, but the line-up was growing and she had to hurry back to help fill orders. Ric gingerly took the cup with the thumb and forefinger of each hand and carefully maneuvered it over to a table in the corner, being extremely careful not to crush it with his strength. His antics were attracting a little attention, or maybe it was the noticeable bulge he was sporting, but nobody stared at him for long. It was one of the mercies of living in New York.

The first sip of coffee was like an explosion in his mouth. He swore he could taste every molecule of sugar and caffeine and he definitely felt his dick twitch. “This fuckin’ body,” he cursed under his breath, squirming in his seat. “It’s like being a damned teenager again.”

The smells and spattered conversations were beginning to get on his nerves and he drank the large coffee quickly. It was hot, almost scalding, but the healing factor negated that discomfort quite nicely. When he was finished, he went to the bathroom and had no choice but to jerk off to try and look relatively normal in public again. It was a surreal experience. According to his memories, ‘Star was a lefty when it came to this act but Ric was right-handed. He alternated between the two and managed to shoot off in fairly short order. Christ, even the climax was hyped up by a factor of ten. He must have made quite a racket in the stall because when he stepped out, several guys were looking at him funny.

Ric got the impression that was going to be a theme for the day. Red-faced, he thoroughly washed his hands and exited the building as fast as he could.

The coffee hit his system hard. It was one of the reasons why ‘Star only chose decaffeinated beverages or water. Ric knew caffeine bothered him but, as he was discovering, he had been seriously ignorant to the full extent. His body was hit with a bad case of the shakes and he had no choice but to start running to try and take the edge off. He wasn’t wearing clothes designed for exercise, but this body didn’t give a shit. For Julio, it was like being someone used to driving a cheap electric car who was suddenly given the keys to a jet-fueled Lamborghini. He was helpless to do much more than sit behind the steering wheel and let the machine do all the work.

He ran all the way to the northern quarter of Central Park and followed the jogging trails, passing other runners like they were standing still while cursing his boots. Blisters formed, broke, healed, and formed again. He was barely breaking a sweat. His energy reserves were over-saturated. This was his idea of hell.

Eventually, he managed to slowed his pace to a canter and then to a brisk walk. He was finally getting used to the stares. When not part of a team and wearing some spectacularly gaudy uniform (he thought of his mohawked days and wanted to punch himself in the face), he largely tried to blend in with the regular human population. He was fortunate not to be a Gamma mutant like Guido or Darwin who had noticeable deformities only an image inducer could hide. He looked human and, now that he was depowered, actually was one. He looked and behaved just as miserable and adrift as the strangers he found himself around. Never one to crave attention, he was content to stay on the sidelines.

It was impossible to pull off that kind of anonymity in Shatterstar’s body. People were side-eyeing him the way they do when they’re trying to remember if they maybe saw him in a movie, on the television, at a concert or as a high-end magazine model. Ric wasn’t walking with the Mojoworlder’s usual self-confident purpose; he was actually trying to avoid eye contact, had his hands in his vest pockets and was slouching; his default posture. He wasn’t sure if acting oddly was calling even more attention to him. His poor clothing choices hadn’t helped. _What the hell had he been thinking?_

Scenting perfume and hearing footfalls, he whirled around and saw a young woman approaching him. “Hey! Have I seen you in something?” she asked, her eyes bright with potential star-struck attraction.

 _Unarmed. Attractive prospect for a casual mating,_ flashed across his mind. It was in ‘Star’s voice.

Flustered, Ric said, “I haven’t been on anything, anywhere.”

“You look really familiar.” She was eyeing the tattoo on his left eye. “Are you in a band?”

“I...” It was happening again. He was getting another boner. _Jesus!_ “I’m nobody. Sorry. I gotta go!” He scrambled away to find somewhere relatively private to wait it out.

As he sat on a bench slightly bowed over, Ric was beginning to process more than just the body’s overwhelming physical sensations. There were things zipping across his mind as he looked around at the people. They were images with subtext and Ric realized that they were part of ‘Star’s Mojoverse conditioning.

He saw a young boy walking his dog.

_Creshling appears unarmed. Creature exhibits defensive attributes. Edible?_

A policeman was standing under a lamppost.

_Armed protectorate. Visible ranged weapon. Dispatch from behind if forced to combat._

A muscular man walked by and flashed him a smile.

_Unarmed. Attractive prospect for a casual mating._

“Jesus. You are one horny sonovabitch,” he said out loud which earned him a sharp look of condemnation from a passerby. That look caused his muscles to tense without his conscious control and he had to fight the impulse to react, gripping the slates of the bench to stay rooted in place. There was a flare up of panic that he was presently unarmed. He was pining for his swords. “You don’t need them. Calm the fuck _down_.”

An elderly couple were strolling by the fountain.

_Elderly beings can be unpredictable. Proceed with caution._

A young mother was pushing a stroller with a toddler bundled inside.

_No information on larval humans. Handler likely armed. Do not engage._

There was a screaming peal of laughter from a group of teenaged girls that grated across his nerves like nails on a chalkboard. The contrasting urges of fight or flight was almost overpowering.

Ric slapped his hands to the sides of his head. “Holy shit!” The thoughts and images came and went so fast that they were a blur of blind impulses that ran the full gambit of ‘Star’s new emotional range: unease, defense, confusion, curiosity, lust. And those were just the prominent ones. There was a whole undercurrent of others running beneath them. They all went hand-in-hand with the actions this body was capable of meting out, most of them exceptionally lethal.

Even though he was muting his over-sensitive hearing, his other senses were working overtime. He had to breath through his nose to avoid the traces of perfume, deodorants, detergent, pheromones, trash, pollen, and all the other scents ‘Star’s mind was meticulously trying to parse out, identify and catalog. Ric swore he could actually _taste_ them on his tongue and had to fight back a wave of nausea.

The other thing was his eyesight. It was overcast at the moment (one small mercy to this overwhelmingly shitty day), but his surroundings might as well have been lit by a thousand-watt spotlight. He had to squint and was blinking constantly to the eye-watering glare. ‘Star’s vision was light sensitive and extremely far-sighted. Ric could spot the brand name of a backpack a person was wearing who was standing on the other side of the pond. Yet, when Ric looked down at his hand, his eyes adjusted to easily trace the minute friction ridges on the pads of his fingers. Looking harder, he could see _between_ those barely perceivable prints. ‘Star’s vision was just as adjustable as a switching out the lenses of a camera.

And there was more.

His left eye, the one that wore the Mojoverse brand, used to have a visible retina and iris right up to the time when they broke up in Mexico. Now it was an opaque white. Fearing that it might be a sensitive topic, Rictor had never directly asked ‘Star if he was blind in that eye. He made round-about inquiries whether it hurt him or caused any problems and the response was usually succinct and neutral, indicating it was a touchy subject. He was relieved to discover that ‘Star wasn’t blind on that side. The left gave him much-needed depth perception, but there was much more to it. It was like looking through a pair of binoculars where one lens was tricked out to the extreme. It modulated through infrared, grey-scaled, tonal shadings, and even picked up personal auras. ‘Star could probably control it but ‘Ric didn’t know how and it was giving him a headache not even his body’s healing factor could erase.

Also, the... shadows were starting to freak him out.

On his left side, just out of the corner, he caught hints of vaguely human shapes lurking in the background of the others. Whenever he turned his head to directly stare at them no one was there. “Christ, I better not be seeing dead people,” he muttered under his breath. He didn’t think his frayed nerves could take that level of fucked-up shit today. It wasn’t even a joke. ‘Star was from a dimension of science and magic, and he wasn’t untouched by it. Layla had said as much. There was really no telling precisely what those shadows were or what they could do to him if he looked too closely.

There were a couple of people milling around discreetly selling things, meaning it was probably illegal. When Ric saw sunglasses for sale, he jumped to his feet, over-estimated ‘Star’s strength (again) and catapulted his body at least six feet into the air.

“Whoa!” he shouted, landing badly and skinning his knee.

Even in a crowd as jaded as a bunch of seasoned New Yorkers, there was still at least one Samaritan to be found. A middle-aged black woman came up beside him. “Are you okay?”

‘Star’s libido fixated on the woman’s generous bosom and Ric felt the stirrings of another useless erection. _Unarmed. Attractive prospect for a casual mat-_

 _Oh, shut the fuck up you goddamn horny bastard,_ Ric thought in dismay. To the woman he grumbled, “No. Not even remotely.”

He found a crumpled twenty in the front pocket of his jeans and bought the darkest pair of sunglasses the dealer had. He grabbed a napkin from a hot dog vendor to wipe the blood from his already-healed knee and used the rest to fashion some rough earplugs. Muting down his sight and hearing helped take some of the edge off. He continued to breathe in though his mouth, staring down at his feet as he walked around the fountain. If he thought he was drawing attention before, it felt like it had increased tenfold. Or perhaps it was simply paranoia. ‘Star had spent the first fifteen years of his life being closely watched; every action -whether in battle or not- had been broadcast planet-wide for the Spineless Ones’ amusement. The following two years with the Cadre Blood Alliance hadn’t been much better; ‘Star’s every movement had been carefully watched and monitored. Due to that upbringing, one part of him reveled in the freedom his new-found anonymity afforded him on Earth, but there was another part he hadn’t completely managed to shake that was secretly pining for attention.

The dichotomy warred on Ric’s nerves. For all of his power, he had always been content to stay on the sidelines and out of sight unless he was needed. Another mutant might have had an ego that came with having an Alpha class power set but that had never been Ric’s style. He was an introvert unwillingly trapped in an exhibitionist’s body.

While he brooded, he caught the eye of another groupie who wandered over. “Do I know you?”

This woman had to be at least sixty. It didn’t seem to matter. ‘Star’s body began sporting another boner. “Fuck!” Ric shouted into her stunned face and took off, fuming.

‘Star’s constant infidelity was a sore point, but Ric was beginning to find out the hard way that it wasn’t all his fault. The Mojoworlder’s memory was eidetic and replayed memories with the depth and clarity of a Cineplex movie theater equipped with a bass-boosting surround-sound system. Ric was astonished to see how many times his face was screwed up into a pissy frown or scowl while spouting some snide comment or insult. ‘Star had everything committed to memory and Ric was forced to helplessly endure recent comments as if he were on the receiving end.

 _“Good morning, asshole. Think you’ll be able to keep it in your pants today?”_

_“I don’t care how noisy it is. You’re coming into the store with me. I’m not your friggin’ butler.”_

_“Of course I love you. Well, I love your dick. Unfortunately, it’s attached to someone I really hate at the moment.”_

_“No, I’m not going along with you on one of your stupid jogs. I’m too hungover. Go without me. You will anyway.”_

Thunderstruck by the wave of negativity, Ric came to an abrupt halt. “...That-that’s what I sound like?”

‘Star had been molded by Mojo V to be a weapon and Rictor was coming to grips with the totality of that reality, but something else had been unlocked. Quite recently in fact, which explained the erratic behavior that was driving Ric bugshit. ‘Star was confused by them as well. It was clear as day that his emotions were trying to sort out the conflicting messages and establish some variety of rating system he could accept.

Guidance from Rictor in this area would be an asset, but the Mexican was severely lacking. In fact, his grating sarcasm was causing ‘Star to seek intimacy from strangers in solace. Ric could confirm his lapses almost always corresponded to a verbal altercation as a passive-aggressive response. It was clear that ‘Star was perpetually aroused (Ric could personally attest to that), but he didn’t succumb to his base urges unless he was angry. Rather than lash out at Rictor, he turned to sex with strangers as an outlet. Considering that less than a year ago his preferred coping mechanism would have been to kill somebody, this search for intimacy was a rather amazing turnaround. Ric would have been impressed if he wasn’t so pissed off. That was also something that ‘Star was acutely aware of, sticking them into a relentless vicious cycle.

 _He is angry_ , came from a deeper core of ‘Star’s mind. The longer Ric was in this body, the more private information became easier to access. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse to hear ‘Star’s distress in the form of; _I don’t know how to communicate what I’m feeling to him. It’s too new. Too overpowering. I’m making mistakes. He’s losing what little patience he possesses. How much longer will it be before he leaves and I’m left with another letter?_

“Oh shit, Gav.” The cold way he had abandoned ‘Star in Mexico was always a cloud over their relationship and clear that it was never far from the Mojoworlder’s thoughts. Ric hadn’t known just how stinging that abandonment felt until Rahne pulled that stunt on him three months ago.

The fact that ‘Star was scared to lose Ric again wasn’t something he had considered. He wasn’t used to being the object of any loyalty. It was common knowledge that ‘Star had always looked to him for guidance left over from his lifetime of isolation and subjugation. Ric always had a nagging doubt that ‘Star’s devotion was one of a slave to a master, not equals in a relationship, but there it was as plain as day:

_I love him._

‘Star’s words. ‘Star’s thoughts. _‘_ _Star’s fucking feelings._ For _him_.

The surroundings around Ric became blurred through a veil of tears and he hung his head and watched the droplets fall on the concrete between his feet. Until this very moment, Ric had been certain that the Mojoworlder didn’t even know what love was. ‘Star knew friendship and loyalty; he felt those towards his teammates. What he felt for Rictor eclipsed that. It was affection and longing tied into a vicious knot with confusion and helplessness. Small wonder. Ric was running the gambit on sending mixed signals to someone poorly equipped to evaluate them. He was effectively driving ‘Star away with his belligerent bullshit. Seeing everything from ‘Star’s perspective, he wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with himself either.

 _I forgot,_ Ric realized. _I’ve had my head up my ass for so long that I forgot he’s only been on Earth for a few years. Instead of giving him credit for all the incredible progress he’s made, I’ve been ragging him about it on a constant basis. No wonder he’s angry. Today might have been the last straw. When we left that shrink’s office he was pissed and I can’t even blame him. Maybe it really is over?_

‘Star’s body was hypersensitive and the thought of that kind of loss was like a kick to the guts. Ric gasped and bent briefly double. “I’m sorry. _I’m sorry!”_ he shouted, trying to soothe that terrible emotion away. It was a little unsettling how raw and powerful this body really was. ‘Star made it look so easy. He acted like he had his shit together. He didn’t. Not by any stretch of the imagination. The act had been so convincing that he had fooled everyone; even Ric who damn well should have known better.

Ric looked back towards the area of the city where the X-Factor headquarters was located. Maybe ‘Star had cooled off and made it back to the building. He hoped so. The thought of an angry Shatterstar driving his too-human body around Manhattan really worried him. He certainly hadn’t been gentle in this one. If not for the healing factor, ‘Star’s feet would currently be two huge pus-filled blisters and he’d have a bum knee.

Spurred by a burst of fear that was almost psychic in nature, Ric began to jog back home. He had to find Shatterstar. They should never have separated. If there was ever a time when they needed to be together, it was during this fucked-up period. 

_We’re gonna have a good, long talk,_ Ric thought. _We need to hash out all this shit once and for all. If we don’t, it really will be over._ He weathered another painful pang and almost stumbled. Out loud, he said, “I don’t want that to happen either, okay? I really don’t. I’m telling you and I’ll tell him as soon as I find him. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

He wasn’t really sure who he was trying to console: This overcharged body or his frayed nerves.

When Ric turned down a street, he saw a police cruiser parked at the curb. He slowed down and gave it a wide berth. He had a deep-seated animosity towards authority figures at the best of times; nurtured by a childhood as the son of a gunrunner and later as a persecuted mutant. ‘Star was largely indifferent about police or soldiers, so long as they were human. He had the self-confidence that they posed little threat to him.

As he walked by, he heard the cruiser’s receiver even though his make-shift earplugs. When he heard the code “10-56A”, he stopped dead in his tracks and pulled them out.

10-56A was police radio code for a suicide attempt.

Under his breath and hardly even aware he was doing it, Ric started whispering, “No. Nonononono-“

The patrol car’s radio repeated the call and ‘Star’s augmented hearing picked out every word. _“All units, be advised of a 10-56A at Beacon Heights. EMT are on route.”_ The vehicle took off in one direction and Ric headed off in another, subconsciously marshaling all of his new body’s speed and strength.

Beacon Heights was where his old tenth floor apartment was. The one with the kitchen window that opened onto the ledge.

The one where he had almost died.

“Oh God, please no,” he said.

Rictor ran.


	3. Part Three of Four

Shatterstar was turning heads too, but in a different way. 

For some reason, Rictor’s clothes looked odd on him, but had nothing to do with fashion. It had to do with his posture and the way that he moved. He looked dangerous in these clothes and given his current mindset, was in absolutely no mood to engage with strangers. His head still hurt, his left ankle throbbed, his stomach was queasy and his body was plagued by constant bowel and bladder issues which necessitated the periodic use of a previously unknown thing called a Port-O-Potty. _What a ky’fekting disgusting experience!_

The only thing he could be grateful for was Rictor’s human senses of smell and hearing. He was adjusting quite easily to that downgrade. His superhuman attributes were a fine asset in battle, but made for a difficult adjustment to civilian life. Reading small print was difficult. He thought that Ric might need some sort of corrective eye wear. ‘Star had mixed feelings about the potential prospect of his partner wearing glasses. They looked fine on certain women (in the adult films he watched privately on his phone), but they never had them on for long. Or anything else, for that matter. He imagined that he could grow to accept them, like he has the rest of Rictor’s faults.

And Julio did have faults. You can bet your _foojkies_ on _that_.

Rictor had always been impulsive and rebellious. If he had been any different, ‘Star doubted that he would have paid him much notice. The Mexican had freely exhibited emotions that the Mojoworlder had been forced, by training and torture, to submerge. During X-Force, Ric’s larger-than-life actions had been better than watching a vid.

But that recklessness was gone now and, in its place, was a mere shadow of the man he loved. Rictor was so sad and bitter nowadays that he was almost unrecognizable. ‘Star wasn’t dealing well with his sarcasm, or his pessimistic attitude (not that Ric had ever remotely been a cheerful optimist), or his near-constant, unwavering denigration of every person and thing he came across. ‘Star had meant every word of the insult he’d hurled at him outside of McNeil’s office building.

Even worse, he didn’t feel remorse for doing it. He knew enough about relationships to understand that was a bad sign.

 _I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,_ he fretted. _McNeil was supposed to fix us. Instead, she betrayed our trust and did... this!_ He looked down at his dark hands in anger. He almost punched out at a lamppost and managed to submerge the impulse before he broke Ric’s hand. _When I find her, I’m going to kill her!_

 _... IF we find her..._ It wasn’t something he wanted to consider, but his mind kept helplessly drifting back to the horrible prospect of: _What if-?_

He faltered in his steps when his stomach released a growl loud enough to turn heads. ‘Star grasped his side and looked down in confusion. He was familiar with hunger and had teetered on the edge of starvation more than a few times when he’d lived among the Cadre. Unless he was utilizing his healing factor or recovering from exhaustion, his caloric intake was minimal. One meal a day was usually enough to satisfy him. This body was extremely inefficient on how it processed calories. It had adequate fat stores (a thing he would _never_ say out loud to Rictor) and had absolutely no right to be so demanding, but it was churning out constant demands: Hunger, thirst, sugar, carbs, caffeine, alcohol. _Gimmie, gimmie, gimme._

“Fine. _Fekt_ ,” he grumbled under his breath.

He bought a hotdog from a vendor in hopes it would stop the hunger pangs and was marginally successful. It settled his stomach, but the taste had been shockingly bland. He followed that with a soda, normally avoiding sugar-packed beverages, and found it the same. At the very least, it helped to give him a much-needed energy boost. Ric’s body was startlingly lethargic. Perhaps it had to do with the intoxicants he had consumed the night before or a poor night’s sleep, but the end result was disturbing.

This body was _heavy_.

It became a recurring thought as ‘Star made his way past Midtown, deliberately skirting Central Park as he moved on autopilot towards an unknown destination. He was too distracted by the deluge of foreign thoughts and physical sensations plaguing him to really care where he was going.

It was a nagging sensation: _This heaviness_. It began to eclipse everything else he was grappling with and forced him to take periodic breaks; a thing that was almost as alien to him as this planet. It wasn’t even completely physical. Julio was by no means a large man and, even though he had lapsed in his exercise regime, was only 145 pounds and still physically fit. It could be related to ‘Star having to conform to gravity for a change, not dependent on his superior strength and hollow bones. The longer he moved, the less convinced he became. This constant weariness didn’t appear to be related to any issues of endurance. It was mental in origin. There was even a word for it.

It was called _depression_.

Julio had once tried explaining it to him in a roundabout way; “It’s like your thoughts are in a fog, okay? It makes it really hard to think. And you’re tired all the damned time, but not like after an intense workout or a mission. You don’t really want to sleep but you have no energy to do anything. I swear, it’s like trying to move through Jello.”

It was at this point that ‘Star remarked that female wrestlers had no problems moving around in Jello and Rictor dropped the subject. He remained moody for the rest of the afternoon. Having access to Ric’s thoughts now, Shatterstar understood why he had upset his partner with his insensitive remark.

 _He just doesn’t get it,_ ‘Star heard in the back of Ric’s mind. _It’s like trying to explain the colors of a sunset to a blind man. If it isn’t fighting or fucking, he doesn’t have a goddamned clue about anything else._

The words stung. Unknown to Julio, after returning to earth and reuniting with the shell his boyfriend had become, ‘Star made a concerted effort to find out what was wrong with him. Madrox had a contract with Doc Sampson to send in members of his team if he thought it necessary and ‘Star requested an appointment and had spoken with the psychiatrist far past his allotted hour. During that dark period after Mexico, ‘Star had lapsed into a despair that had lasted for almost a year. He was astonished when Sampson identified it as textbook agitated depression. Intrigued, the Mojoworlder wanted to know more about the slippery slope of mental illnesses and, although the psychiatrist politely refused to discuss any aspect of Rictor’s specific case, he had been more than happy to accommodate the request.

 _“Depression is a mood disorder that causes a persistent feeling of sadness and loss of interest. Also called major depressive disorder or clinical depression, it affects how a person can feel, think and behave and can lead to a variety of emotional and physical problems. They may have trouble doing normal day-to-day activities, and sometimes may feel as if life isn't worth living._

_“For many people symptoms usually are severe enough to cause noticeable problems in day-to-day activities, such as work, school, social activities or relationships with others. Some people may feel generally miserable or unhappy without really knowing why.”_

_That’s what Julio was trying to tell me. That is what’s plaguing this body._ Not that Ric had ever been particularly demonstrative even on his very best days. Their dispositions had been eerily similar during X-Force, perhaps attributing to their initial friendship. They had both been so arrogant and angry back then. Their crusade against Ric’s relatives in Mexico had begun harmoniously, but had ended on a decidedly sour note. It was at the end of that ordeal when Julio began noticeably slipping; becoming introverted and withdrawn. From what ‘Star had managed to coax out of Madrox, Ric’s time with X-Corporation hadn’t been much of an improvement to his personal circumstances.

Then ... _M-Day._

Losing his powers hadn’t been the catalyst to Ric’s depression like the others believed. It had always been there. Riffling through this body’s mind, ‘Star was able to draw on years of similar dark episodes. Julio’s capture and torture by the Right had been catastrophic and it marked the first period he had sincerely thought about suicide as an escape from that trauma. It seemed that after dappling with the idea of that final release, it remained in the background and never completely dropped out of the sphere of possibility.

‘Star had lost count how many brushes he’d had with death. In the Mojoverse, there were multiple times when he _had_ died after a battle only to be revived by the science and magic of the Whitecoats. His contract had a mandated resuscitation clause if he passed after a victory. It had happened more often than he would have liked because Mojo V had recognized that heroic death scenes always made for spectacular ratings and enjoyed capitalizing on it.

 _Fekting Mojo_. It was because of the tyrant ‘Star was so needlessly reckless in battle. The Blood Cadre Alliance had convinced him to embrace suicide over slavery. Death did not scare him. It _should_ , now that he no longer had anyone to revive him. He had a respectable healing factor, but it was in no way comparable to someone like Daken. He could die quite easily. _Now_. He still didn’t fear it.

It was fortunate that Rictor _was_ scared of death. ‘Star was privy to the number of times his boyfriend had mulled over the idea. His thoughts after he had become depowered became difficult to access. It was just waves of grief and pain and a soul-numbing despair stuck in a continuous loop. There was something else there, some dark shame that Ric didn’t want ‘Star to know about and the Mojoworlder was respectful in keeping his mental distance. At least for now.

His ailing ankle buckled and he stumbled on the curb, falling forward. The body was human, but not the mind propelling it. ‘Star instinctively dropped into a tuck, rolled on the sidewalk and was back on his feet in one smooth move. A passerby whistled and gave him a thumb’s up.

“Nice recovery, my man! Sweet moves!”

“Thank you.” He was an attractive Asian, but there was no responsive pang from Rictor’s body from this brief interaction. Among the throngs of people he passed this afternoon, there was barely any interest directed towards any singular person. Clearly, Julio had a distinct “type” and had finally embraced his sexual orientation. He barely glanced at women. The only thing that appeared to muster a semblance of interest was if a ginger-haired man came into view and there were few, if any, redheads as striking as Shatterstar.

The sudden overpowering emotion that Ric felt when thinking of the Mojoworlder was enough to almost make ‘Star stumble again. He found a nearby bench and sat down to process the enormity of it. Irritation, admiration and love were all tied together, along with a private resentment Julio didn’t have the nerve to speak out loud: He secretly pined for the ‘Star he’d fallen in love with from their X-Force days. He was not a fan of this new gregarious persona and was bitterly jealous of anyone else ‘Star found remotely attractive. It was one of the reasons why he was often so short with Layla.

‘Star was proud of the breakthroughs he had made in his personal growth and was wounded that Julio longed for the angry, immature, emotionally-stunted warrior he had been back in his teen-aged years. Ric had secretly enjoyed having the upper hand being the ‘mature one’ during those chaotic days. Now that they were on a level playing field, he didn’t much like it. Or ‘Star’s lascivious behavior either, for that matter.

Privy to accessing Ric’s perspective, ‘Star took advantage of this ridiculous body switch and tried desperately to rationalize this troubling scenario so that he could understand why his partner was so upset. From what he could grasp, growing up under the X banner hadn’t allowed much in the way of holding onto personal items. It was shocking how many times the simplest of possessions had been lost or destroyed. That had been Ric’s way of life since his powers developed at thirteen and he ran to the ‘States. ‘Star was accustomed to owning nothing more than his swords, but had learned that humans like to collect seemingly useless things for their sentimental value. Small wonder, then, that when Ric began his relationship with ‘Star it became a treasure he sought to hold onto at all costs.

The thought of being _owned_ rankled; a byproduct of being a Mojoverse slave ‘Star was still trying to shake. Ric’s possessiveness hadn’t been the actions of a master trying to subjugate a lesser; it had been borne out of concern and respect and that most mystifying of emotions: Love.

 _Then why did you throw me away?_ ‘Star thought bitterly. His abandonment in Mexico was still startlingly fresh. It was a wound that refused to completely heal and, like a scab, he just kept picking at it. Despite his newly-adopted carefree veneer, ‘Star still bore deep-seated grudges. It was a short list: Mojo V, Spiral and The Gamesmaster. Rictor would be astonished to know he was a footnote on that list. None of his repeated efforts at an apology had ever been enough to erase it.

The day had finally come when ‘Star could.

 _I slaughtered Jake Martinez,_ came Julio’s faint voice, reeking of shame and despair. _He made me so angry that I beat him to death with a bat until I blasted his body into the ground so hard he became an unrecognizable smear. I’ve never killed anyone before and it was so… easy. I just felt relief. I figured it was because the fucker deserved it. Then I killed my uncle Hector with a vibe blast. He made me angry and I just cut loose. Blew him to pieces. And it felt_ good _for a few seconds, until I realized what I’d done and that scared me. ‘Star’s the killer, not me, but I think it’s rubbing off. It’s not what I want to do. That’s not who I want to be. And the way he cut through little Andre-! No hesitation, no regret. That’s when things started going sideways for us. Oh Christ, I love ‘Star. I love him so much. This isn’t his fault. I’m the one who dragged him down into this shitshow. I’m the one to blame for all of it. There’s no way I could stay in this country another second. We could have joined X-Corps as a couple like he wanted and, instead, I got scared and ran off like a little bitch. What the fuck was I thinking?!_

‘Star hadn’t known Rictor developed second thoughts on the private plane chartered by X-Corps. ‘Star hadn’t known he had argued with the pilot to talk to Wolverine and had almost lost control of his powers when he was told to get ready for the flight to Paris. The grief he had experienced being separated from ‘Star had been galvanizing. 

It had also been mutual; not so one-sided as ‘Star had always thought. Both had sought dalliances with other people while secretly pining for the other, never far from either’s thoughts.

“Julio,” he murmured, running a heel roughly up one cheek to rub away the moisture there. ‘Star wasn’t one for tears, but he was in Rictor’s body and Julio had always been an extremely emotional man. A captive to this odd, brooding mindset he uttered a barking sob and struggled to rein in the emotion. It was difficult. Rictor was so _sad_ these days. ‘Star’s appearance had buoyed him, but he was still struggling. It was physically and mentally exhausting.

Slumping down in the bench, he fell into a fitful doze and dreamed of a place called Asgard. Events were so whimsical that he couldn’t discern fantasy from reality. He recognized some of Ric’s teammates from the myriad cliques the Mexican had joined in his relatively short life: X-Factor, X-Terminators, New Mutants, X-Force. _Fekt._ There were so _many_ of them.

A piercing _Whoop!_ of a siren jolted him awake and he saw a city police cruiser parked by the curb. The driver’s side window was down, and an officer was staring at him.

‘Star recognized him and broke out into a smile. “Officer McLaren. How are you-”

“I think it’s time you moved along, _amigo_ ,” the cop interrupted him.

Struck by the man’s cold words, ‘Star caught sight of his reflection in a window across the street and was reminded of his peculiar situation. He got to his feet, too quickly, and the officer and his partner immediately stepped out of the vehicle. Relying on his memory of television shows featuring a similar theme, he immediately put up his hands. “I’m sorry. I just fell asleep. I don’t want any trouble.”

“You hear him, Pete? He doesn’t want any trouble,” McLaren said to his associate.

“They never do,” came the response followed by a dry chuckle. “Goddamn illegals.”

‘Star watched them shut off their personal body cams and knew the situation was suddenly escalating for no clear reason. Both were armed with tasers, batons and handguns. If he was in his original body, none of it would have mattered, but Rictor was vulnerable and already injured. He couldn’t run or fight.

But Shatterstar was ready for battle regardless; armed with his mouth and his memories.

Before either officer laid a hand on him, ‘Star remarked in a casual way, “Ben wanted me to tell you thanks for what you did for him in the alley behind Shapiro's Deli last Wednesday at two o’clock.”

McLaren immediately froze in place. His mouth dropped open into a silent “O” of shock.

“He said you were _awesome_ ,” ‘Star added. He made it a point to drop his eyes to the wedding band on the cop’s left hand and called up one of Ric’s most infuriating smirks.

“What’s he talkin’ about, Ashley?” The man’s partner asked in confusion.

A hectic flush was starting to cover McLaren’s face. “Get the fuck out of here,” he said in a rough voice. “Right now. Don’t let me catch you hanging around here again.”

“Yes sir. Thank you.” He should have left it at that, but some twisted part of him prompted him to retort, “I’ll tell _Benji_ you said ‘Hi’.”

“Get lost!” the cop shouted and ‘Star didn’t discount his good fortune and moved on his way. Behind him, as they returned to their patrol car, Pete was badgering his partner. “What the hell was that beaner talkin’ about? That’s the day you were late with our lunch. What happened?”

“Just fucking drop it!” McLaren snapped and slumped into the driver’s side in a huff. His face was nearly crimson with rage and embarrassment. When his partner joined him, he started the vehicle, revved the engine and blasted past ‘Star in a squeal of tires and rubber smoke.

‘Star slowed his pace and considered his reflection in a nearby window. Julio was tanned, but by no means as dark as most natives of Mexico. His grandfather on his father’s side had come from Germany after the Second World War and had slipped into the country under some rather dubious circumstances. It accounted for his lighter hair and eye color common to the immediate family of the once-notorious Richter Cartel.

This confrontation with the police was a rare event for Ric, but it apparently did happen with the odd person who had issues with immigrants or foreign workers. They were, in Ric’s jaded parlance, _stupid_ _fuckin’ bigots._ Being harassed, even hunted, because they were mutants was bad enough, but Ric also had to face this kind of prejudice for coming from another country. Small wonder being gay added to his heightened anxiety. Before M-Day, he could respond to acts of intimidation with a small power display, but now he had to endure them just like any regular human. He was scared and for apparent good reason.

Sometimes, ‘Star actively disliked Earth. In so many ways it reminded him of Mojoworld; the ruling despots, the class systems, the persecution of those deemed different. He hated the uncertainty of it all and couldn’t understand why everything had to be so needlessly complicated. He and Julio should have been able to live a life not tied to the X, but in these uncertain times there was safety in numbers. Mutants, powered or not, needed some kind of support system. Ric needed that especially now and ‘Star was apparently dropping the ball.

There were a great many things that had changed between them over their time apart. M-Day was the reason for some of that, but not nearly all of it. ‘Star’s life experiences in Mojoworld had made him seasoned and jaded to combat-related scenarios, but he often struggled with matters involving personal interactions. Comradery among his various allies evolved quite naturally. Intimacy less so. Julio had made the overture of friendship first and that had roused a sense of fealty from ‘Star who still possessed a slave’s mindset. When they began a sexual relationship, the Mojoworlder had let Ric take the lead and set the pace. He rarely initiated the act because, back then, he really hadn’t needed to; Ric had been insatiable. It paired nicely with ‘Star’s superhuman endurance.

That changed when they reunited. Now, ‘Star eagerly wanted to engage in relations only to find that Ric was no longer as responsive. They had only spent two years apart, but it might as well have been twenty. Ric was tired all the time, out of shape, and completely demoralized. They were no longer compatible, sexually. When ‘Star tried to push the issue, his friend became defensive and angry. The insults followed and, discouraged, ‘Star sought the company of strangers. The act was purely as a physical outlet with no mental attachments that remotely came near to making them teleportational anchors. There was no person he had met to date who remotely came close to how he felt for Julio. Why was he so different now?

 _It’s the fuckin drugs,_ Ric brooded in that dark place where he did a great deal of his thinking these days. _Those goddamn anti-depressants I have to take. Yeah, maybe they help me get out of bed in the morning, but they make me numb from the waist down. It seems to take forever to get a hard-on nowadays. I don’t think ‘Star has noticed that yet, but he knows something’s up. Or, in the case of my dick, isn’t up. Christ, there’s no way I can explain it to him, and he wouldn’t understand anyway. I have to find a way around this and fast._

Ric’s solution to the problem had been to recently stop taking his medication. His libido was rebounding, but his depression was also coming back with a vengeance. He thought that maybe ‘Star’s return would be able to pull him out of his funk, but was learning the hard way that their relationship had no effect on chemical imbalances in the brain. The quandary left him angry and he was lashing out at ‘Star who, for all of his savagery in combat, was adverse to personal confrontation.

Ric knew what he was doing and that just made things worse. _I’m screwing this all up. I was given a second chance to make things right between us and I’m blowing it. I’m powerless, I’m fucked in the head, I’m a lousy lay. I’m useless. Maybe I would have been better off if I’d jumped before Rahne and the others showed up-_

“What?” ‘Star stopped dead in his tracks, blinking hard. “Jump? What do you mean _jump?”_

Ric’s brain decided to become uncooperative and, for the first time since inhabiting this body, ‘Star pushed hard for an explanation. Rictor had impressive psychic barriers but the warrior was able to breech them from within. What he saw through the wall of shadows was the vision of looking down at his feet; heels against brick and the toes of his shoes sticking out a few inches from a gray ledge that appeared to be no wider than five inches across. Far below was a half circle of police cruisers and flashing red and blue lights and people being pushed away from the building. He was very high off the ground.

 _Oh, Julio. What are you doing?_ ‘Star thought in dismay.

A ghost of a response wafted back at him. It barely sounded like Rictor; scared and lonely and in so much emotional pain that it made the warrior’s headache return with a vengeance.

 _I can’t take it anymore_ , Ric whispered. _I’ve lost everything. My family, ‘Star, X-Corp, my powers. I’m all tapped out. I can’t take another goddamn day feeling like this._

“Julio!” ‘Star shouted, turning heads.

 _Not. One. More. Day,_ were the final words Ric spoke before his psychic shields expunged ‘Star from that dark memory and slammed shut.

Head down and eyes squeezed shut, he tried hard to regain access but Ric had been around telepaths since his rescue by Jean Grey and the rest of the original X-Factor and had been trained by experts how to protect his thoughts. He had also gained formidable mental skills to fight off intruders. ‘Star was knocked back by a psychic shout that went through his head like a blade and forced him to retreat.

“Gah! Ky’fekt!” he cursed, rubbing his temple with a grimace. His slave build made him vulnerable to mental intrusion; a purposeful design flaw that Mojo V used to happily exploit. It was one of the reasons why Madrox’s rogue dupe, Cortex, had been able to take control of him so easily.

Ric had helped snap him out of the clutches of that villain. Their kiss had all of the intensity and passion that Earth movies and television enjoyed capitalizing. It hadn’t been as one-sided as ‘Star had always thought. While the episode on the ledge seemed to be blocked, there were glimpses of similar lapses of self-preservation; Rictor had raged at O.N.E. when they tried to take a pregnant Terry Cassidy away from their house in Detroit. He had initiated a shoot-out that had injured Val Cooper (and, later, secretly resented that he hadn’t been the one shot). His third descent began as he and Guido traveled to Vermont. Ric had already made his mind up that he wasn’t going to fight whoever was threatening Reverend John Maddox. Mentally, he had made his peace that it was going to be his final mission, except-

 _Holy shit, that’s... Shatterstar?_ Ric marveled when ‘Star pulled off the mask and glared at him, eyes glowing pink from Cortex’s mind control. The adrenaline rush from the confrontation also awoke other emotions in the Mexican’s battered body: Hope, fear (but not for himself), longing. _The clothes, hair and weapons are different, but I’d recognize those moves anywhere. He’s really here. He came back! *_

 _You saved me on that terrible day_ , ‘Star thought. _But I think, just maybe, I saved you, too. Why didn’t you tell me how bad it was for you?_

That ghost-voice came whispering back as if in response: _I can’t talk to him about what happened to me before X-Factor. I can’t ever tell him what I almost did. He’ll either over-react with anger or pity and I can’t face that bullshit right now._

 _Oh, Ric, if you don’t trust me than maybe our relationship really_ is _over_ , ‘Star thought sadly. He was overcome with a wave of emotion and collapsed onto the nearest bench and took his face in his hands, grappling with the situation. He would prefer to engage in a battle against impossible odds than have to deal with this type of heartache. He wasn’t equipped to deal with it and felt himself floundering under the stress. He didn’t know what to do.

Rheumy-eyed, he looked up at nearest street sign and it sparked a responsive pang of recognition from Ric’s consciousness. ‘Star got to his feet and walked up the road until an apartment building came into view. Beacon Heights. Ric had lived here for a brief period of time during that confusing period between X-Corps and X-Factor. For some reason, his body had operated on autopilot and brought ‘Star here.

During his employment with the investigative agency, the Mojoworlder was learning to trust his instincts in areas that didn’t deal with combat. Curious, he decided to see how this would play out. He went to the front door and looked at the names on the intercom. There was a new tenant label for 10A. When he peeled it off, he saw the name _Joaquin Murrieta_ beneath it. That was the name on Rictor’s counterfeit passport and driver’s license. ‘Star pressed the buzzer, but got no response.

Someone exited and the security door was designed to close quickly. ‘Star caught it and let himself inside. He wasn’t a fan of elevators, but relented because of his ailing ankle and also because he was relying on Ric’s memories for guidance. He went up to the tenth floor and turned left down the corridor until he was standing in front of 10A. For some reason he was breathing faster, as if he’d run up the stairs. He knocked, but no one answered the door.

If Ric had his powers, he could have grabbed the door handle and shaken the locks loose. If ‘Star was in his body, he could have simply wrenched the door open with his strength. In an inside pocket of his jacket, Ric kept a handy set of lock picks that –after a mental tutorial- ‘Star used with success. He opened the door and cautiously leaned inside the apartment, looking around. He knocked again.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” He didn’t want Ric’s body to get shot by some gun-happy American eager to test Stand-Your-Ground despite the fact that Kevlar was sewn into the liner of his jacket. He waited for a minute and then walked slowly into the kitchen. The tidy, feminine décor warped and changed to become a darkened room where the counters were full of used take-out containers and the small table was littered with empty beer cans.

As if in a daze, ‘Star turned to the window and undid the latch, pulling it open. He barely acknowledged the ledge as he stepped outside. When both of his feet were on the narrow surface, he straightened to his full height and took a few experimental steps, compensating for this body’s smaller, heavier physique. It was breezy and very quiet up here. He looked down at the parking lot. There were a few parked cars.

He swore he could hear the radio from Ric’s apartment playing music. The song was … was...

_You've got that touch so gentle and sweet  
But you've got that look so critical  
Can't talk to you babe you know I get so weak  
Sometimes I think that love is just mythical._

_Up there's a heaven, down there's a town  
Blackness everywhere any little lights shine  
Blackness, blackness draggin' me down  
Come on light a candle in this heart of mine._

_Starbright, starbright, you've got the lovin' that I like  
Turn this crazy bird around  
Should not have got on this flight tonight._

_Should not have got on this flight tonight. **_

Like the final key in a slot, it unlocked the memory. The mental doors swung open and Ric’s ordeal of that fateful night spilled out. Overwhelmed by the images, ‘Star pressed his back against the cold bricks and squeezed his eyes shut.

_It was a cold night. Julio was standing out on the ledge and he wasn’t alone. Fully dressed in a sweater and jeans with a leather coat, he was talking to Jamie Madrox who was similarly dressed. The pair had been teamed up in Paris working for X-Corporation before M-Day happened, dissolving the organization. ‘Star was relieved to see him with a friend in this moment of crisis._

_Ric was trying desperately to communicate the loss of his powers to Madrox. Below them were police cars and news vans. Throngs of people were gathering in disorganized clusters. Spotlights were sweeping the surface of the building and singling them out in stark relief. “I’m not a mutant anymore, Jaime. I can deal with anything... except that. People think my whole thing is, I could make the ground shake. But that barely begins to... I could... I was attuned to the planet, man. We were two... but one... Like she was my mother and I was the baby in her belly. I felt the rain seeping through her dirt... The shifts in tectonic plates... The life force in her; from every ant to every growing seed... I just... And now... It’s like someone threw a bag over my head, stuffed my ears and nose with cotton._

_“I used to feel sorry for... Not just the Saps, for other mutants, too. I was the one-eyed man in the kingdom of the freakin’ blind. And now, I’m no different than the ones I pitied. Actually, I am different. ‘Cause no one else ever had it to begin with, and I can explain it and make you understand it... But no one else can feel what I felt... And I can’t anymore._

_“You got no idea what it’s like being alone in a crowd.”_ ***

Overwhelmed by the despair he experienced in the surge of memories, ‘Star looked down at the ground far below his feet.

All things considered, jumping seemed to be quite a reasonable option.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * X-Factor No. 43 (2009)  
> ** "This Flight Tonight" by Nazareth  
> *** X-Factor No. 1 (2006)


	4. Part Four of Four

Rictor made it to Beacon Heights five minutes before the police cruiser did.

His body wasn’t hampered by pedestrians or traffic; he leaped over vehicles and obstructions with barely a thought, marshaling all of the speed and agility of ‘Star’s athletic body with gratitude for the first time since this awful day began. He darted around to the East side parking lot and his blood ran cold when he looked up to where his old apartment was located. Standing out on the ledge, a few feet from the window was _him_ as if the last six months had never happened.

_Oh Jesus, he’s really doing it. Is he there out of curiosity or has my fucked-up head worn him down?_

“’Star! Hey Gav, I’m here!” he shouted, waving. Like everything else with this body, his voice carried when he wanted to project and there could be no doubt that the Mojoworlder could hear him, but for some reason he wasn’t responding. “Stay right there! Don’t move!”

A steady stream of tenants were coming and going through the back entrance to see what was happening. Ric let himself in and took the stairs, jumping landing to landing until he hauled open the door to the tenth floor so hard, he practically pulled it off the hinges. He barreled around down the hall and didn’t even hesitate at the door to 10A. He kicked it open and sprinted to the kitchen window.

‘Star was standing on the ledge with his hands in the pockets of his coat like he was standing in the park instead of on a narrow precipice over one hundred feet off the ground. On his very best day, Ric couldn’t have managed that kind of balance. Clearly ‘Star had attuned his consciousness to that body and was adjusting to the changes in their varied physiques. Still, the Mexican wanted him back inside where it was safe. _Pronto_.

He leaned out of the window, chancing a glance to the ground. The police cruiser had finally appeared. It wouldn’t be much longer before there were more of them. News crews, too. When he spoke, his voice was high and unsteady. “Uh, hey ’Star? Why don’t you c’mon back in, buddy? You-you’re really freaking me out.”

It was a little unsettling to see his body pass him a resentful glance and then whirl gracefully on his heel and walk away from him.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Ric cried in horror.

‘Star turned back around in a move that made Ric’s stomach drop. “Do I have your attention?”

“Get your ass back in here!”

 _“Do I have your fucking attention?!”_ The Mojoworlder roared. Even the growing throng far below them went silent for a few seconds.

Steeling himself, Ric said in a small voice. “You have it.”

“You did this?” He was, of course, gesturing at the ledge but meant something else entirely.

Closing his eyes for a little longer a little than a blink, Ric admitted, “I tried.”

“If not for Monet’s expert timing, you would have succeeded.”

“Hey! Don’t blame me for what Madrox’s dupe did. I was pushed!”

“You shouldn’t have been out here in the first place, vehjka.”

In the face of that logic, Ric went silent.

‘Star stared at him for a long time and then looked away. “I am trying not to be angry at you, Julio. I am trying very hard. I know that this insidious mental illness you have is at the root of all your suffering. It has eroded your confidence, stolen your pride, and deceived you to think of suicide as a salvation. What upsets me the most is that you didn’t tell me about any of it. Don’t you trust me?”

“Some things are meant to be private, Gav.”

“You call _this_ private?” he asked in disbelief, gesturing to the growing crowd.

Ric squared his jaw and looked away.

“You almost died!” ‘Star shouted.

“Gav, as far as I was concerned, I already was. I can’t explain it to you. You wouldn’t understand.”

“You speak as if I do not know anguish or despair. You have been so obsessed with my new personality that you haven’t even bothered to consider why I was so desperate to abandon the old. You’re in my body and have access to my mind. You can learn the truth.”

Hesitating, Ric asked, “What am I looking for?”

 _“[Just think of the Season 57 Finale],”_ he said in Cadre. _“[The Free-For-All. It is a strong memory.]”_

Scarcely before the words were out of his mouth, Ric felt his body recoil so violently that if he had been standing out with ‘Star he probably would have gone sailing over the edge. There was a blaze of pain in his left hand and when he looked down at it, all he saw was a spouting stump. With a cry of horror, he turned to ‘Star and saw-

 _Bodies. The lower bowl of the arena was full of bodies from one end to the other. It was hard to tell how many there were because the majority were hacked to pieces. The different blood colors had turned the floor into a multi-colored slurry full of weapons, limbs and organs._

_In the center of the carnage were two blood-soaked fighters who had their weapons locked. Several camera drones were rotating around them, projecting the battle to huge holographic screens arranged high above where the Audience was seated. They were screaming their excitement and it was transformed into a cacophony of unrelenting, deafening thunder._

_“I am going to drop my guard at the next parry,” Shatterstar said through clenched teeth so that the cameras couldn’t record the movement of his lips. He had lost his padded helmet in the fray and had a gouge that ran from below his left ear to his chin, showing bone. “Run me through between the third and fourth rib. I can shift my organs to ensure the wound is fatal.”_

_The other warrior [Bludfist] glowered at him over their straining weapons. One of his three eyes was gouged out leaving a weeping red hole in the center of his face. “I’m going to stumble over one of the fallen,” he rumbled in a tone so low that it was almost felt rather than heard. “My throat will be exposed above my armor. Slash me there.”_

_“Fekt.” ‘Star kicked the other fighter away and swung around again where their weapons impacted hard enough to create sparks. “I have earned this! You can become the Season Champion.”_

_“I don’t want the title,” Bludfist grunted, pushing him back. “You know what I want.” He rushed in low, hacking at ‘Star’s right calf. When the warrior rounded on him, he deliberately angled his body to let the double-sword cut through his stomach. The wound was deep and fatal. His entrails spilled out on a rush of blue-colored blood._

_“Vehjka,” ‘Star spat at him, pulling his weapon free._

_Bludfist flashed him a grimace of satisfaction. “I win,” he said though a mouthful of blood before pitching forward into the dirt. His body twitched once and was still._

_Shatterstar was the last one standing. The arena resounded in an enormous cheer. Exhausted to the point where even pain no longer registered, ‘Star turned to offer his salute to Mojo V and, head down, limped to where the Whitecoats were waiting._

_End scene. Fade to black._

“What the hell was that?” Ric said, visibly rattled.

The anger had gone out of ‘Star by now. He only looked tired and sad. “Only winners are healed. Mojo has no use for slaves who place second. After so many years of constant mind-numbing combat, I’d endured enough.”

“You wanted Bludfist to _kill_ you?”

“And he wanted the same release. We weren’t fighting for the victory, Ric. As the last two warriors left standing in the melee, we were trying to get the other to land the fatal blow so that we could finally be free of the senseless combat.”

Ric blinked at ‘Star as if it was the first time he’d seen him. “Jeee-sus.”

‘Star couldn’t make eye contact, visibly ashamed. “I had given up. I couldn’t stand Mojo’s rule any longer. Two days later, I made my escape and managed to find the Cadre.” He gestured to his surroundings and let his hands fall to his sides as if to say, _‘The rest is history’_. He looked directly at Ric. “So, please believe when I say that I know _exactly_ how you felt when you were standing out here alone. We are not so different.”

“I thought you were,” Ric said, humbled. “When you came back, you started acting so weird.”

“This is who I am now,” ‘Star said in a hard voice, pointing to his head. “I know you don’t like it. I know you miss how I was _before_.”

“I do. I-I _did_. I get it now, Gav. You’re not the only one who’s changed.”

“We could have soothed over these hurt feelings if we’d only talked.”

“We’re talking now. I’m listening. Now. Say your piece and get it off your chest. I’m not going anywhere.”

The Mojoworlder finally appeared to falter for the first time and dropped his eyes, looking indecisive. He went back to looking down at the crowd. Ric didn’t like that one bit. “C’mon, Gav. Please talk to me.”

“Perhaps the time for words has passed,” ‘Star murmured, talking more to himself. “I won’t go back to how I was.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.”

“But I know you’ve been thinking it.”

Rictor swallowed, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t sound like a lie.

“And you never answered my question,” ‘Star added.

“Which one?”

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t trust me.”

Ric was visibly wounded from the hurt he heard in that statement. ‘Star was shocked by the play of emotions on _his_ face; he was usually so stoic in the presence of stressful situations, but Julio was unlocking expressions he didn’t know he was capable of making. “Of course, I trust you!” Ric blurted out. “I came out to you _first_ before anybody else knew. You’re the first person who I said I loved and that hasn’t changed.”

Swallowing, ‘Star looked at him sidelong. “... It hasn’t?”

“Of course not. _Dhiv kiba uemeur sa hai’vo*_ , Gaveedra Seven.”

“ _Dhiv kiba uemeur sa hai’vo_ , Julio Esteban Richter,” ‘Star said in a thick voice. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Ric’s vision was warped by barely suppressed tears. He scrubbed them away and leaned out further to extend a hand towards his boyfriend. “C’mon, estrella. Grab hold and let’s _vámonos_ the hell out of here.”

“There’s my Ric.” ‘Star said fondly, rushing forward. Just before they touched hands, his left ankle buckled and he fell sideways off the ledge.

“NO!” Leaping forward, Julio grabbed a handful of sleeve, but forgot to anchor himself. His heavier body pulled ‘Star’s completely out of the window. “Ah, _shit!”_

The crowd beneath them recoiled in horror, quickly backing away.

“Don’t let go!” ‘Star told him. He extended both duel swords _SHAK!_ and crossed them. “Think of bed!”

“Bed?!” Ric shouted in disbelief.

‘Star knocked their heads together and thought as hard as he could. _**!!BED!!**_ He projected the image through their rapport. Ric heard and saw it loud and clear and felt a responsive surge of power course through him. An instant before they hit the pavement, an X-shaped teleportation gate opened up and they fell through it.

The next instant the gate appeared in their room and they plowed into their bed hard enough to break the box spring and slam the mattress into the floor. Ric bounced off and landed in a sprawl on the carpet. It took him a few seconds to register their surroundings and he was stunned. “Holy shit! I’ll be goddamned!” He burst into hysterical laughter. “You crazy bastard. It worked! We’re home!”

He looked back and saw that the other body was still. That stopped the laughter cold. “...’Star?” He scrambled to the bed and fussed over the other man who was unconscious. There was a large goose-egg forming on his temple.

Their return rocked the entire building. There was a hammering of knocks at the door before the rest of X-Factor spilled into the room. Ric was too preoccupied with ‘Star to pay them much notice until Madrox was beside him. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Ric really didn’t want a replay of another ledge debacle and just said shortly, “We took a tumble and ‘Star managed to initiate a teleport. We smacked our heads on the way down.”

“Hey ‘Star? It’s Jamie.” One of Madrox’s dupes had gone through medical school and, after absorbing him, Jamie was as close to a doctor as anyone one the team could get. He was lifting ‘Star’s eyelids to gauge the size of his pupils. “Can you hear me? Terry? Can you get me some ice?”

“On it,” the Irishwoman said and left the room.

“Nice aim,” Guido remarked. “Looks like you’ll be buyin’ yerselves _another_ bed.”

Ric shook his head. “Not now, man.”

“Just sayin’. That one wasn’t even two months old. You boys like it rough, eh?”

Ric was starting to get to his feet, clenching his fists. It was at that point that Darwin thought it might be a good idea to lead the huge mutant out of the room.

Longshot was rocking back and forth on his heels, watching them with a wistful expression on his face. “Looks like you finally had a bout of some good luck, hm?”

“Oh, don’t you _dare_ try to take credit for this. Get out of here, you poser.” Ric pointed to the door.

The Mojoworlder flashed him a good-natured wink and casually strolled out.

Monet gently touched ‘Star’s head and concentrated. “It’s a jumble, but it’s a _strong_ jumble. I think he’s just stunned.” She fell silent and threw Ric a knowing glance, no doubt picking up some rogue images of recent events. He flushed, embarrassed, but she didn’t make any comment.

‘Star was starting to come around.

“Easy there,” Jamie soothed as the eyes on Ric’s body fluttered. “Try to relax. You might have a concussion and-”

‘Star suddenly rolled over and threw up all over Madrox’s lap.

“Yep,” Jamie said, grimacing. “Definitely a concussion.”

* * *

‘Star’s dreams were full of Ric’s memories and were just as surreal and fanciful as things concocted out of thin air. Surroundings shifted, faces came and went and the spattering of dialogues had no discernible context he could parse out. When he snapped his eyes open, he was looking up at the ceiling of the bedroom he shared with Ric at the X-Factor building.

 _It worked,_ he thought with relief. It had been a desperate gamble to force a transport through this body switch, although not without consequences. His entire body ached from the feedback. The room was lit by the lamp on the nightstand and it seemed to be late in the evening. He got the impression he had been unconscious for a long time. He sat up and was astonished to see that the mattress was on the floor. The demolished box spring was propped up against the far wall. The ensemble had cushioned their fall and served its purpose just as he’d hoped.

“Was it luck or strategy?” asked a familiar voice beside him.

‘Star’s body was sitting in the chair beside the bed, reading a book. He was wearing a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. When Ric’s body twisted around to look at him, he added, “Y’know, specifically targeting the bed as a teleport destination.”

“It was strategy. We’ve never had a bed of our own before. Or a home that we shared one in. It’s been on both our minds a lot lately. It was the perfect choice.”

“You figured all that out in, what, two whole seconds?”

He got slowly to his feet. “I think fast.”

“I can attest to that. You good? Need help?”

“I’m good,” he said and limped to the bathroom. After using the toilet, he washed his hands and then gingerly touched the bandage on his temple, wincing. He peeled it back and saw a large bruise on his forehead. “Fekt,” he grumbled. Someone (Ric probably) had undressed him down to his underwear and he saw that his left ankle was swollen and bruised. He filled the sink, grabbed a washcloth and gave himself a quick scrub. Satisfied, he returned to his room.

Ric was still seated in the chair. He looked up when ‘Star walked in and briefly shuddered for no reason the Mojoworlder could understand, cursing under his breath.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m dealing,” came the terse response. “Madrox ordered pizza for the gang. You hungry?”

His stomach rumbled before he could respond. He looked down with a scowl. “This body needs a constant intake of calories. I’m amazed that you’re not the size of the Blob.”

That roused a low chuckle out of the redhead. “I’ll see if Guido left us any scraps. Be right back.” He got to his feet, pulled the over-sized top down as far as he could and left the room slightly bent over.

It was odd behavior but ‘Star didn’t dwell on it for long. He sat down on the dilapidated mattress and looked at his tanned arms and hairy legs and sighed. It had to have been at least twelve hours passed and the body switch wasn’t wearing off. He began to consider the possibility it might be permanent.

He dropped his head and started to puzzle out the logistics.

Ric came back balancing a pizza box on one hand and a bottle of soda with some glasses on the other. “Major score for us. Monet hid our pizza so Guido couldn’t find it. Half meat-lovers for me and half that veggie shit you like.”

“With extra pineapple?”

“Yeah, with extra pineapple, you freak. Gross.” He set the box down and ‘Star did a double-take when Ric settled down on the bed beside him. The front of his sweatpants was tented by an unmistakable erection. “Like the view? I’ve been sporting this wood ever since I took your clothes off,” Ric explained, cheeks reddening. “First time I touched you, I shot off like some pubescent teenager and had to jerk off two more times. Goddamn thing just won’t go down. The others are getting a real laugh over it.”

Smirking, ‘Star opened the box and grabbed a slice. He was ravenous. “It sometimes has a mind of its own.”

“No kidding. I spent the whole day looking like a circus freak. I thought I was finally getting some kind of handle on it until we were alone together.” He was holding a slice of pizza in his hand but discovered he wasn’t really hungry. It was another curse of being in ‘Star’s body. He didn’t have food cravings and was rarely hungry. Ric put the slice back and wiped his hands on his pants. “I felt how this body responded to strangers. That’s nothing compared to how it responds to you or-or, I mean, to _me_.” He stared at his body with burning eyes. “Holy shit, Gav.”

‘Star ate his pizza in silence, watching him.

“I don’t know how I could have ever doubted how strongly you felt.”

“We haven’t been doing much besides arguing.”

“And over such stupid shit, too.”

“No. I wouldn’t categorize it as stupid.” ‘Star poured himself a glass of pop, drank it, mulled it over and then poured another cup. “Ignorant, maybe. Certainly misinformed. We were keeping secrets from each other. The trope is featured heavily in Earth’s media and it never ends well. We should not have expected that it would be different for us.”

“I was jealous. Before Mexico, I was the only person you ever looked at. And when you came back two months ago, it was like you hardly looked at me at all.”

‘Star flashed him a look. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah, now. I can _feel_ how wrong I was. Those strangers were just like a short workout for you. They barely resonated above the waistline. But when it’s you or-or, y’know me.” He gestured to ‘Star. “Christ, this is confusing as hell, but I know you love me.”

“And I know you feel the same way.”

“I don’t want us to be over,” Ric said firmly. “I want to try and make things work.”

“So do I.”

A sound like a sob escaped Julio. “Oh, thank God,” he said in a shaky voice. He leaned over and grabbed the back of ‘Star’s head and kissed him hard. When their tongues made contact, Ric tasted the overwhelming sweetness of pineapple and cola. He smelled sweat and testosterone and it was too much for his over-saturated senses to handle. With a choked curse, he pulled away and grabbed his straining dick.

‘Star moved in quickly and slapped his hands away, pulling at the sweatband to the pants and freeing the straining member. He wrapped his lips around the head just as Ric was coming.

“Christ!” Ric collapsed backward on the mattress. His member wilted a little but refused to go down. “That was, what, a few seconds? And it still felt like my spine was unraveling. I don’t know how you don’t lose your goddamned mind.”

‘Star went back to eating another slice of pizza. “The sensory overload is something I’ve had a lifetime to accommodate. The libido is less so. It’s been very difficult trying to cope with my new emotional growth. Surely you know that by now.”

Ric set his jaw. “I haven’t made it easy for you.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I should have told you how bad the depression was.”

“You need to go back on your medication,” ‘Star told him, earning him a sharp glare. “It isn’t something I can fix or that you can will away. You can’t ignore it, either.”

“But taking the pills make me... They make it hard for me to-to...” He shook his head and stared unhappily at the ceiling. In a near-whisper, he said, “I can’t make you happy.”

“I’m happy to be just finally talking.” 

“You know what I mean. We used to fuck every chance we got. Now I’m lucky if we can do it once a night.”

“Statistically speaking, that’s above average for-”

Ric raised himself on his arms. “Knock it off! I know it’s important to you, too.”

‘Star finished his second slice and was eyeing a third. “Julio, when we were younger, intimacy was the only thing keeping us together. Between the life or death skirmishes in X-Force and Mexico, it was all we really had. Small wonder we did it so often.”

“And now?”

“Now, we have other subjects in common. Look at us: We’re having a conversation and not fighting. I think this is normal couple behavior.”

Ric snorted in amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever been around a ‘normal couple’ long enough to make that kind of call.”

“It feels right,” ‘Star pressed. “I feel at ease and I haven’t felt like that for a very long time. We are together in our room, sharing a meal and engaging in meaningful conversation. I’m happy.”

“...Really?” Ric asked doubtfully.

“How about you?”

“Well, aside from the constant horniness I...” He paused to puzzle it over. “When I’m alone with you it feels... good. I can actually relax for a change. It’s like a weight is lifted off my chest, y’know?”

‘Star decided on a third slice. “Despite the circumstances, this day has not been without some reward. It has been enlightening to say the least.” He looked down at himself lying back on the bed. “You are coping with my body’s challenges, yes?”

“It should come with a manual. Or maybe an ‘off’ switch.”

“You know what turns it off.” ‘Star arched an eyebrow at him. “More specifically what turns it _on_.” He touched Ric’s knee and chuckled when the large body jerked in reaction. His erection was at full mast again.

“Careful. This dick’s got a hair-trigger.”

“Interesting analogy.”

“I’m serious. Don’t start something unless you’re gonna finish it.”

“Aren’t you curious how it would feel? I have to admit, it’s very arousing seeing myself in that state from this perspective. Perhaps I’m more vain than I realize.” It had to do with the way Ric was channeling emotions that ‘Star normally kept submerged, making his expressions vulnerable and exposed. His body language was uncoordinated and unscripted, without premeditation, and was a fascinating thing for him to witness.

Unsettled, Ric looked up at himself. This situation was veering into some sort of warped wet-dream territory. In his head, there would always be a part of him that was a self-deprecating little asshole. When he looked at a mirror, he never came away pleased with what he saw. It was now clear that ‘Star saw something different than what he did. There was some component about the shape of his face, the color of his eyes, and the fullness of his lips that drew ‘Star’s attention and made Julio seem so much more attractive through this body’s regard. The left eye with its crazy range added a new shifting perspective.

“Oh, wow,” he murmured, reaching up to touch that, to touch _his_ , face.

“What do you see, Julio?”

“I see a faint green aura. It fades in and out, like a heartbeat. Is-is that my power?”

“It’s stronger when we’re outside. I think the earth is trying to reach you.”

Ric grabbed a length of dark hair. Under ‘Star’s sensitive fingers, it felt like feathers. “I can’t hear her anymore,” he said in a sad voice.

Leaning forward, ‘Star caught the bow of his lips and kissed him gently. He whispered, “When I first came to this world, the sudden silence almost drove me crazy. You helped me cope with that loss. I can help you with this.”

“I need you, ‘Star. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“I’m here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.” His hand reached up to cup his balls and Ric’s flashed in to stop him. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Madrox said you have a concussion.”

‘Star released a wry snort. “Between your psychic armor and my enhanced consciousness, it’s a mere inconvenience. The both of us possess amazing pain tolerance.” He bunted Ric’s hand aside and took firm hold. The larger body shivered in reaction.

Ric pulled off the hoodie and started to reach for him, but his hands were shaking. “I don’t have a handle on the strength thing quite yet,” he said in an unsteady voice. “I might hurt you.”

“You won’t.” ‘Star straddled his thighs and used his heavier weight to push his partner down into a submissive pose. “I trust you, Julio,” he whispered and bent down to kiss him again.

It was like their first time. In so many ways it was better. They didn’t have to rush or hide or fear interruption. They took their measured time reacquainting themselves with the other’s body and made sure to talk about their insecurities and feelings with a depth never betrayed to the other ever before. Their coupling was sweet and beautiful and thoroughly intimate in a way that went beyond the physical release they experienced. It sealed their relationship with hope and joy towards their future.

At the end of it, Ric was finally soft and ‘Star was drowsing beside him. It was very early in the morning, but Rictor couldn’t sleep.

“Hey, ’Star?” he whispered.

“...Hnh?”

“You awake?”

“Nhn.”

“What are we gonna do if this body switch is permanent?”

‘Star rolled over on his back and looked up at the ceiling, remaining quiet.

“I know you’ve probably examined the situation six ways to Sunday by now. What’d you come up with?” Ric leaned over and propped his head up on one arm to stare at him.

Taking a deep breath, the Mojoworlder said, “I have my skills and my swords. With some conditioning I could still be a formidable fighter. My original body had many benefits, but it does not define who I am as a whole.”

“I friggin’ knew you’d thought it through. What about me?”

‘Star sat up and looked at him. “I know that my augmented abilities do not compare to what you lost on M-Day, Ric.”

“I’m a teleporter who can kick ass. It’s not that bad. Next time you want to knock heads, picture Cuba.”

A ghost of a smile crossed ‘Star’s face, but faded as he said, “I’m thinking perhaps it would be best if this switch remained as it is.”

Ric looked at him in disbelief. “You’re not serious?”

“The healing factor should be of most benefit to you. The mental illness that plagues you is caused by a chemical imbalance. You shouldn’t be stricken by that disability anymore. You’ll be safe.”

“’Star, this is your body we’re talking about!”

“At its core, it’s just meat and bone. _This_ is all that matters,” he said, pointing to his temple.

Ric was shaking his head back and forth. “No. No no no. Don’t you dare give up. That’s _my_ job.”

“I’m not ‘giving up’. This isn’t a battle. I’ve assessed the reality of the situation and made the conclusion that I will not fight to change it. You’ll be better off.”

“And what about you?” Ric asked in dismay. “You think you’re gonna be doing me any favors watching you go downhill instead?”

“If necessary, I will take the medication and go to therapy if and when I need it. I’m not scared to ask for help.”

“I wasn’t scared!” Ric snapped at him and then sobered. “But I _was_ embarrassed. Maybe even in denial. Everybody else seems to have their shit together and here I am just limping along like some ghost.”

“Except now, that’s no longer the case.”

He was shaking his head. “No, man. It’s way too much.”

“It’s been taken out of our hands. What’s done is done. I need to hear that you’ll accept it.”

Ric started to roll away from him and ‘Star grabbed his shoulder in a firm grip. “Julio, please. There is no other person I would trust with this.”

“You think I don’t know that? Nobody else would make that kind of sacrifice for me. Nobody!”

“We are a couple. A successful union means compromise and communication. I’ve made my peace with it.” He gently touched his boyfriend’s face and favored him with a warm smile. “And now, hopefully, you can finally find some peace too.”

At this point, Ric was very close to tears. He swept the other man into a tight hug and buried his face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. “I don’t deserve you,” he said, the words muffled. “I love you so goddamn much.”

“Goddammit, I love you too, vehjka.”

With shared laughter, they kissed passionately. And when they made eye contact again, the veil lifted and their perspectives changed.

They were back in their original bodies. Just like that.

* * *

On Thursday, Dr. Louise McNeal unlocked the doors to her office at three pm and cautiously walked into the waiting room. There were two young men sitting there just as she expected. She smiled warmly and invited them into her office.

“You should have given us some sort of warning,” Rictor groused while they discussed what happened the week before.

“Telling you what I was going to do would have defeated the purpose. You couldn’t have any mental preparation for what was to come. With it happening by surprise, you were forced to work together to try and overcome your differences,” she said. “Seeing events from each other’s perspective is effective, but it’s the communication that pulls the whole experience together.”

“When you bugged out, I thought we were screwed for sure.”

“The mental shift only works for a maximum of 24 hours,” she explained. “I usually make myself scarce for a week just in case there’s an attempt at retaliation. You don’t know who broke into my office and damaged my file cabinet, do you?”

Ric slouched down into his seat and went quiet.

“It’s an effective ability,” ‘Star said, deliberately changing the subject.

“I like to think so. It’s made for a rather lucrative practice. I’ve sent the bill to your employer.”

“You actually charged him for this?” Ric asked in disbelief.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

“For how much?”

She smiled demurely and remained silent.

Rictor betrayed a small smile. “Ah, hell. Serves him right.”

“It’s good to see that you’re still together. I can assume things are good between you two now?”

“We talk,” Shatterstar said. “For the first time in a very long while, we’re talking about a vast variety of subjects. It very enlightening.”

“Mr. Richter?”

Ric was chewing on the inside of his cheek. He glanced at ‘Star who nodded encouragingly and said, “I’ve got mental issues. Depression. Maybe even some PTSD thrown into the mix. I didn’t want ‘Star to know how bad it was, so I was bottling everything all up and taking it out on him. We’ve spent the last week talking like he said.”

‘Star cut in with, “Well, we’ve been doing more than just _that_.”

“I think she can figure that one out, Captain Obvious. Stop bragging.”

“Sexual compatibility does factor into a strong relationship,” Dr. McNeal said. “Everything is going good in that area?”

‘Star flashed his most enthusiastic grin. “I have absolutely no complaints.”

“No more indiscretions? I understand that monogamy is difficult for you given your... physiology.”

“Oh wow, you have no idea,” Ric muttered, remembering the Day of the Perpetual Hard-on.

‘Star’s smile slanted. “I masturbate more often.”

“Is that normal?” she asked.

There was a moment of silence before Ric spoke up, flushing slightly. “No. He’s doing it because... uhm... It’s just that I can’t always be, like, y’know ready. For-for him.”

“Could you please be more specific?”

Ric slapped his hands to his face and wished he could drop through the floor like Kitty Pryde.

 _“[You can do it. I have faith in you],”_ ‘Star whispered.

Ric blindly reached out for his hand and squeezed it. Drawing strength from that contact he raised his eyes to the therapist. “The antidepressants screw up my sex drive. Can...” He swallowed and said the hardest words in his life. “Can you help me?”

‘Star looked on fondly as Ric and the doctor began to seriously discuss alternate treatments. As far as he was concerned, for Ric to have the strength to be able to utter those four words alone made their ordeal on Friday worth every single moment.

He held firm hold of his partner’s hand and smiled.

* * *

  
A few days later, Jamie was leaning back in his office chair with his feet on the desk idly playing Candy Crush on his phone when Darwin dropped off the afternoon mail. Jamie eyed the stack warily, knowing that it was the time of month when bills stated to arrive. There were few things more expensive than running a business in Manhattan. After deliberately ignoring it for a few more levels, he paused the game and sat up to sort through the envelopes.

Predictably, the property taxes were due. And the electricity. And the cable. He came across a purple envelope that had Dr. McLeod’s business address printed on the top left corner and opened it, expecting a letter of apology.

Instead, it was a bill for five thousand dollars.

He slapped one hand down on the table and a dupe popped out. It looked around and Jamie wordlessly held up the invoice to show it to him.

It laughed. “Holy smokes, dude! You got seriously screeeeeeewed.”

Jamie absorbed it without comment. His face was beginning to noticeably flush in color. He grabbed the paper and vaulted out of the office.

There was conversation in the kitchen and he headed down the hall, but hesitated when he heard laughter. It was coming from Rictor and it was so rare a sound that Jamie had to wrack his memory to remember the last time he’d heard it. He was drawing a blank. He slowed his pace and listened.

“You seriously bought donuts for the whole gang?” Guido asked suspiciously.

“My treat,” Rictor said cheerfully. “Bought six Boston Crème just for you, big fella. I know they’re your favorite.”

“Ya probably filled ‘em with laxatives,” the huge mutant grumbled.

Shatterstar spoke up. “Julio would not risk angering you by sabotaging your food.”

It was apparently the reassurance Strong Guy needed. “Score!” he shouted triumphantly, grabbing the bag of pastries. He passed Jamie in the hall grinning through a mouthful of vanilla cream.

Behind him, Jamie heard ‘Star remark in a lower voice that Guido couldn’t hear, “I, however, don’t care if I anger you.”

Rictor was snickering. “Oh man. He’s gonna shit his brains out for _days_.”

“He should not have made those rude comments about our new bed,” ‘Star said aloofly.

Jamie peered around the corner and saw Ric holding onto ‘Star and laughing. The Mojoworlder immediately noticed him. “Madrox. Is everything alright?”

Reluctantly, Jamie stepped into view. He noticed that both young men were out of uniform and wearing smart casuals. Again, he tried to recall a time when Ric wasn’t wearing anything other than tattered jeans and, again, couldn’t do it. He had on black pants and a maroon top, a nice compliment to ‘Star’s blue dress shirt and tan slacks. They were, he thought privately, an attractive couple.

Deliberately keeping his voice light, and trying to ignore the paper burning his hand, he asked, “Going somewhere special?”

“We’ve got reservations at a restaurant and then we’re going to take in a movie,” Ric said.

“It’s a date,” ‘Star added, as if it wasn’t obvious. “We’ve never really dated before. It’s quite a novel concept for me.”

“And me too, honestly,” the Mexican said with a slanted smile, flushing slightly. He was freshly shaved and the color showed on his cheeks.

Jamie nodded wordlessly and grabbed a donut from the box on the counter. He held it up. “Is this one safe?”

“I have no grievance with you,” ‘Star said. “However, if you’re having issues with regularity you can ask Strong Guy for one of his.”

That set Rictor off again.

“Have a great night, boys,” Jamie said, returning to his office. He called up the close circuit feed and saw the pair exit the front door. Ric said something and this time ‘Star was laughing, another rare sight. The two men shared a kiss and walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand.

Jamie looked down at the crumpled invoice lying on his desk for a long time. With a sigh, he smoothed it out. He pulled out his check book and paid the fee.

In the Memo section he wrote: _Worth every penny._

* * *

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"My soul sings when you’re close" in Cadre.

**Author's Note:**

> All references to what Rictor and Shatterstar experienced in Mexico are detailed in my fanfic “Working Class Heroes” found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251625


End file.
